


Living with Mortals

by XariXipha



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Daddy Issues, Depression, Drama, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Florpus compliant but clembrane is dead, Happy Ending tho, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, No clembrane cuz I can't stand him, Not Beta Read, Post-Invader Zim: Enter the Florpus, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, This is gonna get dark, Who Knows?, Will add tags as I go, be warned guys, dib is 18 dw, or maybe not, spoilers for enter the florpus, this is gonna be a long one, two bois being reluctant friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23562238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XariXipha/pseuds/XariXipha
Summary: Dib Membrane is about to leave his seat when his phone buzzes. Curious, he pulls out his phone underneath his desk, leans back to make it less obvious.Did Zim send him a message? It wouldn't be the first time. Zim has hacked into his cellular tower before in order to retrieve Dib's phone number. In fact, Dib thinks that Zim might actually still be hacked into it, using it as his own means for sending "human" electronic messages. Whatever. Unless he starts using it for anything harmful, he doesn't really care.He unlocks his phone and pulls down the notifications tab. He blinks, reading.It's not Zim.He wishes that it somehow was, though."Professor Membrane Found Dead After Explosion At Membrane Labs"
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 70
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

His breath came out in harsh pants. His footsteps echoed against the cold asphalt. The pounding of his heart was deafening in his ears, as adrenaline pumped through his veins. He was exhilarated, thrilled. It was the love of the hunt, the excitement in being chased. 

As Dib Membrane runs for his life, he briefly wonders when their battles had begun to feel more like a game than a fight over Earth's future. 

He rounds a corner into an alley, knowing before he's even fully made the turn that he's cornered himself into a dead-end. He skids to a halt, panting. He turns to face his rival, who skitters into view shortly thereafter. The scaping of his pak legs against the pavement sends a horrible noise echoing against the walls. The shiver that wracks down his spine is a contradictory mess of sensations. He thrives off of it, grinning as the Invader stalks closer. 

"You seem awfully happy for someone who is cornered, Dib- _pig_." The Irken sneers. Crimson are his eyes, as they seemingly glow through the darkness. The flickering street light behind him casts him in an eerie glow. The shadows stretch long and ominous. His grin widens. 

"That's what you think, Alien _scum_." He taunts, daring. His antenna raise, suspicion and excitement evident in his gaze. Dib knows that this is just as much a game for him, too. He wastes no time, darting towards the Irken invader. His legs, longer than they were when they first met, carry him faster, his strides longer- more dangerous. Zim leaps over head, dodging the ambush. Their positions are switched, just as Dib predicted. He swings around, withdrawing the secret item within his trenchcoat. They are handcuffs- a familiar pair, although refurbished by Dib himself to be virtually indestructible and entirely voice-activated. He rounds on Zim, who gives off a half-alarmed, half-amused noise as he once again dodges the human's assault. 

"Again with the cuffs, human? Zim is beginning to think you are trying to send him a secret signal!" He barks out, climbing higher up the walls and out of reach. "If I didn't know any better, I might even- HEY!" During his pause to taunt him further, Dib had pulled out a plasma gun he had stolen from Zim a while ago and fired off a warning shot. 

"What?" He asks, innocently. 

"I was wondering where that- YOU STOLE MY PLASMA GUN!" He shrieks, indignant, and launches himself towards Dib. He fires off two more shots before Zim manages to get a hold of Dib's wrist, both of which fail to meet their target. In a battle of raw strength, Zim is hard to beat. Thin as he is, his Irken physiology easily matches Dib's own strength. He tries to take back the advantage by aiming a kick at his shin, but the Invader easily dodges it. Zim strikes back with his own kick, twice as hard, and Dib is easily brought to the ground. The two grapple, clawing and growling at each other as they each try to gain the upper hand. Dib manages a punch to Zim's gut, which leaves him winded. He uses the advantage to get on top of the smaller male, pinning his wrists beside his head. 

"Victory for Earth." He smirks, sticking his tongue out at the Irken. Zim growls, his eyes narrowed as he glares up at the human. 

"What about your handy cuffs, Dib-meat?" He inquires, nodding towards where they lie discarded, a few feet away. Dib glances over, only to wheeze when a knee is jammed into his stomach. Before he's even caught his breath, his adversary has reversed their position, with the unfortunate addition of using his own hand-cuffs against him. He stares up at his cuffed wrists with a frown. 

"I have won once against, foolish dirt child. Victory for ZIM!" He cackles, leaning back on his haunches. Dib stares up at him, regarding him. 

He's grown slightly over the past few years, if barely. He probably wouldn't have even noticed had it not been for the class photos he was forced to partake in. It was hard to tell with the way everyone else had grown much faster. However, when placed side by side the slight couple of inches became more noticeable. He was still short, remarkably so, and especially compared to the rest of the Seniors in your class. But it was growth none-the-less and he had prided himself over this achievement with an innocent enthusiasm that was as rare as it was strangely charming. 

Now his worst enemy turned rival turned reluctant acquaintance sat over him, in all his short and mighty glory, staring down at him with a proud smirk and glowing ruby orbs, unabashedly basking in his victory perched upon his hips. Dib smiled. 

"So, what, am I your prisoner or something, now?" He dares to question, his curiosity peaked. The Irken regards his words carefully, his antenna flickering in contemplation. A sharper grin curls upon his lips. 

"I suppose I could give you the mercy of becoming my slave, Dib-human. You have served Zim well throughout the years as an admirable nemesis." He decides. He reaches forward and grabs the link of the cuffs, rising and then effortlessly pulling Dib to his feet afterwards. 

"Really, now. That's your mercy?" He challenges. It is a dance they've stepped along to multiple times in the past- a conversation familiar to them both. Zim's goal was to rule over Earth with Dib as his slave, it wasn't new information. 

"You should be more grateful. Zim would treat you far better as a slave than anyone else already does otherwise." He teases, voice cocky as he drags the teen along. Dib goes along without much resistant, the smile on his face only growing behind Zim's back. 

"And hows that?" He continues. 

"Well," He hums, rubbing his chin. The fact that he even appeared to be giving this serious consideration was hilarious to Dib. He struggled to keep quiet, so as not to raise suspicion. "For starters, I would make sure you are properly nourished and clean at all times. Only the peak health and standards are suitable to me, and as your Master I would expect you to uphold them. After all, your condition would also reflect on myself..." He had begun to ramble, talking himself into an imaginary scenario which absorbed all of his attention. The moron was too self-absorbed for his own good.

He is so absorbed, even, that he doesn't seem to notice when Dib says, "Unlock" and the cuffs clip open. Still, the Irken Invader is oblivious as he creeps quietly into a passing alley, stepping into the shadows. He doesn't notice until three more blocks down, when Dib clearly hears the echoed "CURSE YOU, DIB!" that bounces down the street. He muffles his cackles behind his hand as he runs home for the night, another Evil Scheme foiled. 


	2. Chapter 2

Monday started in a typical manner for the Irken Invader. He spent his remaining few minutes of free time glancing over the beginnings of what he was sure would become his greatest plot for world domination yet. The accumulation of wires and disjointed robotic mechanisms lie askew across his workbench, the dim glow of his base casting their magenta parts in a crimson haze. The mere sight of them, unfinished and yet harboring such promise for destruction and chaos- he was shaking in his boots, giddy with excitement for the plot to come. He could do nothing to conceal his grin, even as he ascended to the ground level of his base, and began the walk to skool. 

Zim was in such a good mood, it appeared as if the Earth were brighter somehow. Or perhaps that was just a byproduct of the 'spring' weather finally taking claim over the chilly season. He held his head high as always, a march in his steps to the beat of his Irken pride. Even as he passed through the skool gates, and the sneers and glares of the skool bullies were cast upon him, his good mood did not waver. 

His good mood held strong all throughout the day. The Dib's meddling and annoying tendencies, as much as they irritate him, could do little to bring him down. As is to be expected, because Zim is the best, and he knew this fact better than anyone. 

"Why are you so happy?" The Dib asks during lunch, having brought himself to Zim's claimed eating-destination. He waves the human away with the flick of his wrist, much more interested in the sandwich he had brought from home.

His saving grace to the horrible nightmare that was 'Lunch Time' had been the realization that it was a normal human practice to bring food from home- a fact which has since served to ease his misery upon this filthy ball of _dirt_. Regardless, he couldn't risk exposing himself over something as trivial as his dietary practices, bringing sugary treats every day would no doubt earn him a ticket to the dreaded Health And Safety-drone's office, so he was forced to compromise and allow Gir to make him some form of Earth nourishment to include in his meal. At least then it was slightly more edible.

"Zim's good feelings are nothing for the Dib-filth to be concerned about just yet." He dismisses. Dib raises an eyebrow, plopping himself down across from the green menace. 

"Yet? So you're cooking up some kind of plan right now?" He guesses. Zim narrows his gaze on the boy, plastic lavender eyes taking in his rival. Dib was as greasy and ugly as usual, and the dark circles beneath his amber eyes have always been that dark, but there was a lingering hint of something cold in his gaze, something empty. He disregards it, knowing that if it was really that important, Dib's big mouth would open and spew it all out to him eventually. 

Instead, he regards the boy with quiet contempt. 

Zim has been on Earth for six rotations now, currently in the third quarter of the school year. In that time his contempt and disgust of the Human and his peers has only grown. However, as the consequences of his Florpus hole have made themselves increasingly clear, he was forced to come to a frightening realization- one he hadn't dared to speak aloud since it's dawning. His schemes, he could reluctantly admit, have cycled more towards uninspired or lackluster as an unfortunate side-effect. Try as he might to fool himself, years of pretending and ignorance could no longer hide what he knew deep down was true. Because of this, he's been forced to consider things in ways he would despise, under normal circumstances. Like, how Dib served as a decent, perhaps even worth, rival. 

He detested the boy as he always had. However, he has begun to feel somewhat proud of that fact. Proud that Dib was so good at being detestable. He was annoyingly smart when he wanted to be, and proved himself to be a challenge that Zim was thrilled to accept. Before he knew it, the excitement of his plans had become less about the completion of a mission for his dead Tallest, and more for the test of strength and skill against someone who had proved himself an equal all along. 

Zim shudders. What a twisted thought, completely unbecoming of one of Irk's finest soldiers. 

"Of course, _stupid._ What has twisted that gooey Dib-brain of yours, and made it even more _dumb_ than usual?" The Irken snarls, more as an act to cleanse his filthy thoughts than to actually spur on the Dib. Irritating his nemesis is always a welcome bonus, though. He ignores the strange expression on Dib's face, tells himself he hates how casual the pig-filth has become around him. "For an Irken to even _think_ about dedicating his time towards something other than his assigned mission, well, he might as well serve his Tallest in the last way he possibly could by hitting his BRB." He sneers, taking an angry chomp out of his sandwich. 

Dib raises his palms, both of his eyebrows raised in alert. 

"Woah, hey. I was just asking a simple question. No need to get violent just yet, weirdo." He mumbles the last part, his gaze directed off to the side. Zim catches it anyways, thanks to his superior hearing. He bears his teeth in a snarl. 

"Zim is no weirdo, filthy dirt _pig_ of _filth!"_ He slaps a palm to the table for extra dramatics. "Zim will have you know that his next evil plan of genius will have you _begging_ for mercy. You won't stand a chance this time, DIB! TAKE THIS!" Zim screeches, chucking his empty can of Irken soda at the humans big head. It bounces off of his perplexed face, rolling somewhere off to the side. The Invader stands and saunters out of the cafeteria without further ado, quite satisfied in having stupified his rival. 

His good mood stands strong as ever. His skin was crawling with the overwhelming urge to tell the human all about his latest plot, but he knew, as soon as he said anything, the worm would be right there to shut it all down before it even came to full fruition. And that was not what Zim wanted, just yet. 

Just yet? 

Zim ends up skipping his afternoon classes, too eager to finish up the last that needs to be done to his robot in order to finally set his plan into motion. This isn't anything Zim hasn't done before either- skipping. When his hi-skool classes continued to fail to prove to be any sort of academic challenge to the Irken, he had begun to come and go as he pleased, having much better things to be doing with his time, and using Dib's forced attendance as a way to get things done when he was unable to ruin his work. It wasn't until the Dib had informed him that he would end up repeating the grade if his attendance became too poor, that he had begun to choose his absences more carefully. It was quite easy to calculate the wiggle-room he had once he got his hands on the principle-mans Book of Hands. 

The sun has long since set by the time Zim reemerges from the depths of his base. The town slumbers, oblivious the havoc that is about to lay waste to their precious lives. The clouds high above give a threatening rumble. A streak of light parts the darkness, ever briefly. He stands, proud, atop the blacktop, with a well prepared double coating of paste already applied. Beside him, a robotic beast stands, silent and still, awaiting its orders. 

"The Dib is going to quiver in his stupid shoes like a smeet when he sees you, Carl." The Irken gloats, bouncing on his toes. Any minute now, the foolish child is going to come running around the corner, with determination and hatred in his eyes. Or perhaps he is already here, hiding somewhere, stalking like he always does? "Come out, _Dib,_ and face your future overlord!" He taunts, hands poised confidently on his hips. 

It would seem that the Dib has finally learned some sense, and decided to back down from the fight he obviously would not win. 

Just yet? 

After a moment of stewing in silent anticipation, he growls. He was becoming impatient. 

"Rrrgh! How dare that stupid pig ignore Zim!" He barks, stomping down the sidewalk. He had told the human nothing about what he was planning, so he was certain that the filth-creature would be lurking outside his base, desperate to gather whatever clue he could about his evil scheme. It was routine by now! Predictable, reliable, expected!

No matter! If the Dib was so stupid as to believe that Zim would just let this slide, then he is sorely mistaken. If he didn't want to bring the fight to Zim, then Zim would bring the fight to him! He will have his rival on his knees tonight and there is nothing that's going to stop him. 

By the time he stomps up to the Dib's yard, with his large electronic llama in tow, the clouds had begun to release the acidic shower they had been withholding all evening. 

"DIB! Stop being a coward and face me!" He shouts with a glare, irritation leaking into his good attitude. "DIB-MONKEY!" He tries again when his words go unanswered. 

Gritting his teeth, he stomps up the path to the door. He gives it four harsh knocks, and then one more for good measure. When he receives no answer, he instead maneuvers his way to the side of the Membrane house. Dib's bedroom is dim. Is he asleep? 

"WAKE UP, DIB!" Zim tries once more. When that doesn't work, he finally decides to scale the wall up to said bedroom. With his pak legs anchored to the wall, and his uniform becoming increasingly soaked, he glares into the bedroom. It's empty. The Irken gives it a couple of taps with a sharp claw. He receives no answer, as expected at this point. 

Zim hooks his fingers beneath the window sill and gives it a tug, surprised when the window opens. It was unusual for his nemesis to leave his window unlocked. A fact that, coupled with his strange disappearance, was beginning to make the Irken feel paranoid. His rival almost never bails on their battles, unless he is forced to against his will. Zim shudders, the air-conditioning inside sending a chill over his wet clothes. He goes inside. 

A quick scan of the house proves it to be empty. Dib is not in his room. The Dib-sister is not on the couch with her video games. Not even the Dib-father is below in the basement labs. The house is deserted. It feels like a rock has settled in his spooch and he doesn't like it. 

Where is Dib? 

He is beginning to wish that he'd replaced the tracking device that Dib had recently found. Maybe if he had, he would know if his rival is okay or not. He takes a slow seat on their couch, not concerned with the fact that he is undoubtedly getting the cushion wet.

He sits, and he waits. 


	3. Chapter 3

The arguments weren't anything new between Dib Membrane and his father. The first one had happened long before Zim even came to Earth. The first argument, if he remembers correctly, had been when he was 10, and he came home with a broken arm after chasing a demon-badger. It was his first major injury while on an investigation, and it was the first clue to his father, that, perhaps his son was taking things a little too far. 

Membrane was a concerned parent, and Dib could recognize this. His father had been rightfully alarmed with the discovery, having dragged his son down into the lab to run repairs. The fracture was more than ideal. Dib had to wear a cast for 6 weeks. 

It started with a light scolding, and a lesson on how fragile the human body really is. Dib understood. His father only wanted him to be safe. 

Dib had been interested in the paranormal almost his entire life, taking up the obsession as if he were drawn in by some unseen force. It consumed all of his interests. Up until that point, Membrane had only dismissed his son's fascination as a harmless phase- something he would grow out of. That's why, up until that point, he had mostly pretending to go along with his son's interests. 

He wanted to be a good and supportive father, despite his own beliefs. 

But when Dib came home with a broken arm, he knew that things had gone too far, and he had to draw a line somewhere. He used his words- a suggestion more than anything. 

"Why don't you direct your focus elsewhere for a while?" 

Dib was smart, and they both knew this. 

"The demon-badger isn't what broke my arm, Dad!" 

"But you fell because you were chasing one."

"I fell because I wasn't watching where I was going!"

It was a moot point. An argument not worth arguing. Membrane gave his son a hug and bid him goodnight, the end of the discussion. There would be no further debate on the issue. His stance was final. 

But Dib was passionate about the paranormal, and like his father, he was also stubborn. And so, he continued to chase the abnormal, continued to run through the woods on the outskirts of the city, continued to investigate the things he couldn't understand. He was fascinated with this world, yet to be discovered, and nothing was gonna stop him.

The injuries became more frequent, and so too became Membranes vocalized opinions. However, he never hit his son. 

Maybe that's why his words always cut sharper than the sting of a belt would have. 

Things didn't get better when Zim showed up. If anything, they got immensely worse. Things escalated. 

Membrane never hit his son. Regardless of how loud his son rose his voice at him- a clear sign of disrespect- and regardless of how muddied his words became with curses and cruel declarations. Dib Membrane was smart and they both knew that. Violence was never necessary. His words cut sharper than a belt would have, anyways. 

Dib never told anyone about the arguments- fights, as he was becoming more inclined to call them. As far as he knew, his father and Gaz were the only two aware that they even occurred. 

He never told Zim either, despite how much he wanted to, sometimes. Zim was, and has always been, his enemy and his rival. Nowhere in there could they be classified as 'friends'. He knew that they had a lot in common, but had always kept that wall between them. That wall- the safety of his planet- it kept the line in place, and kept his goals straight. He was too busy protecting the world to give into his insane desire for friendship from the only person who could possibly understand him. He wasn't that desperate. 

So, when he came home that Sunday night with more scrapes and bruises than he would have liked, he knew what to expect when he saw his father waiting for him in the living room. The arguments were almost as coordinated as his fights with Zim were, at this point. They started off the same, always with the same question:

"Are you hurt?" 

Over time, his father's concern had begun to feel less loving and more annoyed, a fact which only served to annoy him further. 

"No." A lie, but at this point he felt much better giving that answer with the hope of avoiding the conflict than otherwise. As expected, his father sees right through this. 

"You know you can tell me the truth. You don't have to lie to me." It is meant as a reassurance. It doesn't feel like one, anymore. 

"Can I?" Dib bites out. Membrane sighs. 

"Of course you can. I love you and-" 

"Do you?!" It comes out harsher than Dib had wanted, his voice already raw from screaming at Zim all night. 

"Dib." Membrane chastises. 

"No! No. I don't want to listen to whatever crap you're going to try to feed me." He's had enough. He's tired, of everything, of the disapproval, of the dissappointment. He wishes that for once, his father would just accept him for who he is, for what he believes in, instead of trying to shape and mold him into someone he's not. He hates it. "If you meant that, we wouldn't be having _this_ conversation, _again._ " 

"Son, just listen to me, and I know you will understand." 

"It's you who needs to understand! Why is it that we keep having the same conversation?! The same words, over and over and _over_ , because it's _you_ who isn't listening, Dad! How many times do I have to tell you! I'm not _you_! I'm never going to _be_ like you! And I don't _want_ to be like you! Just let me _be_ who I _want_ to fucking _be!"_ He snaps. 

Dib Membrane is fed up. He's tired of this song and dance. 

"Stop it, Dib, I-"

"No." 

"Son." 

"No, I'm done." He starts toward the stairs, intent to return to the reprieve of his bedroom. 

"Dib." His father's tone carries a warning. Dib ignores it. Membrane always carries out these arguments with the calm of a man trying to teach numbers to a kindergartner, as if if it were only a matter of time and repetition before the subject finally retains the wisdom of apparent truth being fed to it. Dib hates it. 

"I'm tired of trying to explain what free will is to you. Maybe if you thought of me as an actual person instead of a knock-off copy of yourself, I'd be more inclined to sit down and carry on an actual conversation with you. Maybe we could have gotten to the root of both of our problems. But seeing as that's never going to happen, you're better off focusing on the only child you have left that actually loves and respects you, not that you fucking deserve it. But I guess we can't both get what we want, can we." 

Those were the last words he spoke to his father, before the accident. 

Zim had been acting strange all day, staring off into space with this satisfied smirk on his face. It was driving Dib up the wall, curious to know what was going on in the Irkens head. All four of his morning classes dragged on, presenting him without a single opportunity to catch the alien's attention. Trying to catch Zim in the hallway between classes proved futile as well. Despite how his green skin made him a lot easier to spot in a crowd, his short stature pretty much negated that advantage. Not to mention, Zim always made it a point to minimize as much hallway contact as possible. The short walkways with their crowded, sweaty occupants, rank of body odor and too much perfume made for an unpleasant experience for someone who was already so sensitive to such things. 

It wasn't until lunch that he was finally able to confront the green menace, and their conversation proved less than useful. If anything, his good mood mixed with his cagey attitude and general aloofness only added to Dib's curiosity. When Zim didn't show up for Fifth period Calc, he just knew something was up. His gut screamed at him to go investigate. Unfortunately, his attendance was already getting to be too precarious. He was forced to make a decision. 

Save the world? Or graduate?

It was a tough one. Six years ago, the choice would have been made without hesitation. The answer was obvious- or at least it used to be. Dib was a senior now and had been facing Zim for a little over half a decade. He's not exactly sure when, but he had definitely begun to notice when Zim's plots had stopped being about conquering the Earth and begun to be about conquering him instead. The change happened roughly two years ago. He still isn't sure what, exactly, caused this, but he wasn't about to argue. His hope is that, maybe, if they become something closer to friends than they are now, he'll ask. And if he's extra lucky, he might just get an answer. 

With that in mind, the options become a little more complicated. He knows, now, that Zim's plots are meant for him, specifically. It's the thrill of the war that keeps Zim going, the anticipation of each battle, the well-earned victory or the well-fought loss.

The question is whether Zim will wait for him or not. 

Prolong the battle and let Zim have the upper hand? Or leave early and hope to get the jump on him before anything takes fruition? 

It's all a matter of possibility. It always has been, he realizes. 

Dib Membrane is about to leave his seat when his phone buzzes. Curious, he pulls out his phone underneath his desk, leans back to make it less obvious. 

Did Zim send him a message? It wouldn't be the first time. Zim has hacked into his cellular tower before in order to retrieve Dib's phone number. In fact, Dib thinks that Zim might actually still be hacked into it, using it as his own means for sending "human" electronic messages. Whatever. Unless he starts using it for anything harmful, he doesn't really care. 

He unlocks his phone and pulls down the notifications tab. He blinks, reading. 

It's not Zim. 

He wishes that it somehow was, though. 

**Professor Membrane Found Dead After Explosion At Membrane Labs**

Dib Membrane feels nothing, at first. His surroundings are muddled, his vision focused solely on the phone in his hand. 

He clicks on the article. 

If it was one of Zim's plots, he would know, right? It would be obvious, right? He reads. 

He reads and it sounds believable. 

But it has to be a trick, right? 

He finds a video. He plays it. 

Clear as day, he sees it- his father's lab, half-destroyed and still partly engulfed in flames. The camera turns towards the News Lady, who has tears running down her cheeks. Behind her, dozens of ambulances and fire trucks are parked with their lights on. Medical personnel are running around like startled ants behind her, frantic to help in whatever way they can. 

It's too late to save him, she says. He was killed on impact. 

"Dib Membrane!" His phone drops to the floor. His hand suddenly feels numb and on fire at the same time. He turns his gaze towards his teacher. "Do you want to share what was so important on your phone that you're paying more attention to it than your assignment?" His teacher says. His words sound harsher than they probably were. 

"My Dad is dead." He croaks, disbelieving. Until he hears his own words echo back to him aloud, and reality crashes in. 

"Wha-"

"My Dad is dead!" He gasps, stumbling to his feet. His cheeks are wet, and he thinks that they might be tears, but everything inside of him burns too much to care. "I have to go, I'm sorry!" He cries and darts out of the classroom, belongings forgotten. 

He is halfway through the Skool entrance when a sharp, earth-shattering thought wiggles it's way through his muddied panic to get to the scene as quickly as possible. 

What about Gaz? 

Does she know? 

Oh god.

He sobs, and throws himself back in the direction he came from. He's running through the halls and he doesn't care. He thinks he even pushed over someone who was probably on their way to the bathroom. He doesn't care. 

He needs to get Gaz. 

He finally makes it to her classroom door. It opens before his hand has a chance to reach for it. Gaz stands before him, and her eyes are wide. Her phone hangs limp in her hand. 

She already knows. 

"Dib." She whispers, staring up at him. He chokes out a breath, mute as he grabs her hand and leads her away. 

Nobody stops them and he's thankful for that. He thinks that, if anyone tried, he probably wouldn't hold back for once. 

The usual trip to their house somehow feels longer than it did before, despite his strides being rushed, panicked. Eventually, they get there. 

The crowd around their house is huge, but as soon as the spectators recognize them, they part like the ocean. 

It's one of Membrane's lead scientists that confront them, bearing the bad news. He points them to the tent located just next to the explosion site, but warns them about what they'll see if they decide to go in. 

Gaz looks up at him, a silent question in her gaze. 

Can he handle it? 

He owes it to his father, he decided. He nods. They enter. 

It's a lot worse than he anticipated. He had already known that his father had mechanical enhancements. His arms were entirely robotic, as he had learned all those years ago. He wasn't prepared to see half of his torso concave, with the organs inside burnt and unrecognizable. His face, which had always been concealed behind his lab coat and goggles, was burnt to a crisp. His skull was visible, bearing a few fractures. He regrets that this is the most of his father's face he has ever seen- will ever see. 

He burns the sight into his brain. Karma, he thinks, but not towards his father. This is Dib's karma. 

A lot happens really fast, after that moment. He is shuffled out of the tent alongside his sister by one of the policemen. His sister fights it. He does not. He allows himself to stand outside, expression void, staring into space, while Gaz curses and fights anyone who tries to approach them. Before he even realizes what's happened, the two of them are being led into the back of a police car. 

Somehow, he ends up at a courthouse, signing custody documents. 

Nothing makes much sense to him. All he knows is the cold pit in his chest right now. 

It's dark and raining when, after what feels like eons, him and his sister step out of the police vehicle and up to their front door. He opens it. 

Zim is sitting on their couch, casually drinking from a can of soda. 

Something inside of Dib explodes. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is going to be updated at least once a week, for those of you who are curious. Also, because I don't currently have a beta-reader, I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors I happen to overlook when I publish these. I will try to go back and proof-read them more thoroughly when I have the time. 
> 
> -Xx

The logical part of his brain unceremoniously gets shoved to the farthest corner of his mind, drowned out by the overwhelming, all-consuming rage that suddenly melts through his veins. It is hot and thick, like molten lava, leaving a searing pain in its wake. The damage feels irreparable- too much all at once to be handled in any sort of safe or constructive way. 

Dib sees nothing but red, and he is on the Irken before he knows it. 

"You did this!" He shouts, arm cocked back. He throws his fist at the Invader who, until that moment, had been regarding his rival with an annoyed, if not bored, expression. Zim's eyes widen in surprise, not having expected an immediate fight. Regardless, he ducks away just in time, using his pak legs to move over the back of the couch. 

His thought is that, with the piece of furniture separating them, Zim will have more time to properly figure out why, exactly, his rival is screaming at him. As much as Zim had been longing for their due battle, he is not yet satisfied with delivering it- not until he gets a proper explanation for why his nemesis had abandoned him. He expects a stupid answer, which will only serve to fuel his own irritation towards the meat-sack, and will make their battle that much more fierce. He wants the wait to be worth his time. He has high expectations, after all these years. 

This behavior, however, is odd even for the Dib-monkey; it had been for years. The Dib had mellowed out dramatically over the years, attacking him less out of spite and more-so only when necessary. "Necessary" being used loosely, as their battles have begun to feel more like a bonding ritual than the completion of his-

Zim is forced from his thoughts as his rival volts over the couch after him, already making a grab for one of his pak legs. He puts exactly six feet of space between them. 

"You'll pay for this!" He screeches this time. Zim snarls, feeling offended.

How dare the Earth-pig try to attack him and accuse him of wrong-doings he clearly has not earned the fury for!

"Zim has no idea what you're babbling about!" He growls, but his words go ignored as Dib charges at him. Zim stands his ground, bracing the impact. The two wrestle like two unmoveable titans. Dib's face is close, their eyes level, and Zim catches the scent of something salty lingering on his rival. His jaw is clenched tight, his lips curled back into a snarl. 

"Don't pretend like you don't know what you did, you worthless piece of garbage!" Dib growls, his voice low and threatening. 

"Dib." Gaz calls from the doorway, her voice strangely strained. She goes ignored, their world's made up entirely of each other.

"I am not _pretending!_ You dare accuse Zim of lies!" The alien growls back. 

The tension in the air was starting to remind Zim of the earlier years when their hatred was fresh and ripe with rage. It was easy to fall into. Easier to forget than he thought it'd be, and he relishes in this fact. He welcomes his rival's daring ferocity, thrives under his intense glare. Those Amber's, bright with his rage, stare down at the Irken with an intensity Zim hasn't felt in _years!_

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" Dib roars. Suddenly, he steps back, using Zim's momentum against him so he can deliver a solid punch to his gut. Zim wheezes but doesn't let his guard down for a second. Fake, plastic lavender eyes narrow. Behind them, dark magenta orbs take in their panting, red-cheeked target. Dib goes for another hit, a right hook this time. The Irken dodges it, then delivers a counter-strike. It lands- a solid blow to Dib's jaw. 

"Dib, stop."

Dib twists his fingers into the collar of Zim's uniform and pushes him against the wall. He punches the Invader square in the face. Again. And Again. _And AGAIN. AND-_

Zim catches the fifth punch before it lands, shamelessly digging his claws into the back of the human's hand. Blood immediately trickles down his pale wrist, unnoticed. High on adrenaline and anger and _grief,_ Dib Membrane headbutts Zim as hard as he possibly can. It draws a sputtered gasp out of the extraterrestrial, and Dib's vision is static for a few seconds. 

"RRRGH YOU-" He wraps both of his wrists tightly around his enemy's throat, _squeezing._ He glares down at him, seeing him, and yet not seeing him at the same time. 

"DIB! JUST STOP IT! STOP DOING THIS!" Gaz's scream startles him out of his high. Dib blinks, and for a moment finds himself confused about why Zim is glaring up at him. His face is a gross ashen. And then he realizes he's choking him. He doesn't let go, however. 

"Zim did this." He states, cold and resolute. Behind him, Gaz takes in a shaky, uneven breath. 

"No, he didn't, Dib." She sighs. 

"Yes, he did! Who else could have done this, Gaz! So many times his experiments went bad but they never-" His voice cracks, and he forces himself to stop before he breaks completely. He squeezes harder. 

"Dib, listen to yourself! Zim's too much of an idiot to be able to pull something like that off!" She's raising her voice too, only increasing the shakiness in her pitch. 

Dib finally hears it and realizes that she's struggling to keep herself put together just as much, if not _more_ than he is. The guilt settles across his shoulders tenfold. Suddenly, he feels nothing but a cold, aching sorrow in his chest. He releases Zim. 

Zim leans against the wall for support, glaring silently up at Dib as he rubs at his bruised throat. His face looks awful, but he can't even appreciate it. 

Dib blinks, feels the ache in his jaw, feels the burning all along his arms and chest where Zim had apparently been scratching him mercilessly in his attempt to fight back against Dib's rage. He feels it, but he welcomes the sensation- at least it isn't anything like the harrowing pain in his heart, right now. He'd accept any pain over this. He'd even accept death. 

Anything. 

He clenches his eyes shut. 

"Dib..." Gaz whispers, drawing closer. Her hand takes his shoulder, pushing him away from the wall, away from the still silent Irken. 

It's only when she wipes at his cheek does he realize he's crying. Before he can help himself, he's sobbing, grabbing desperately at his sister. Gaz hiccups, returning the embrace just as strong. 

"We had another fight, Gaz! T-the last thing I said to him- I, it was... I told him I hated him, Gaz!" He cries, breaking alongside his heart. She squeezes him tighter in response, combing her fingers through his hair as her own fat, silent tears run a river down her cheeks. 

While Dib's grief is loud and pained, hers has always been silent and miserable. 

Her eyes connect with Zim's over her brother's shoulder. He already looks better- mostly healed thanks to that pak of his. 

He meets her gaze with knitted non-existent eyebrows. He looks uncomfortably worried, hesitant, and annoyed all at once. She wipes her tears while Dib continues to babble and vent into her shoulder. 

"Go home, Zim." She whispers, low enough so that Dib can't hear. She thinks he might've forgotten the Irken was ever there in the first place. 

Zim opens his mouth as if he were going to argue. He appears strangely reluctant. But he apparently thinks better on whatever he was going to say, and instead gives a curt nod to Gaz. She watches as he silently climbs the stairs, sneaking into Dib's room. A few beats later she hears the neighbor's dog bark- a sign that Zim's made it into their backyard.

With him gone, she can properly address her brother. 


	5. Chapter 5

Left. 

Right.

Left. Right. 

Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. 

Zim had been pacing within the depths of his lab for hours now. Each step echoed against the walls, a quick _tap, tap, tap, tap,_ to go alongside the quiet humming of his base. His antennae seemed to be permanently pinned to the back of his head, constantly twitching with his thoughts. 

It had been two weeks since the Dib had shown up to school. It had been two weeks since the death of his parental unit. 

Zim had been a little dazed after the events of that night, thoroughly confused about why Dib had "beaten the crap out of him" as he so delicately liked to say, and then broke down unto the ugliest of tears that Zim had ever seen. He was rightfully confused, even a little offended. The Dib had been acting strangely, and so Zim took it upon himself to figure out why. 

What exactly was it that the Dib-pig had been accusing him of? 

It didn't take long at all for the Invader to find his answer. It came in the form of a news broadcast, and after an _annoying_ advertisement, it wasn't that long before he got all the details he needed. 

At first, Zim had been a little proud that Dib would have assumed that he was the one responsible. He was proud, because if he _had,_ _he_ would have been the one to finally bring his enemy to his knees. And then he was annoyed that he _hadn't_. Had he known how drastically this would have affected his rival, he would have done so sooner. There was so much possible _leverage_ to be had in using the Father Unit's life as _bait._ It was genius- foolproof!

But then, Zim remembered a conversation that he and the Dib-beast had shared a couple of years prior. 

It was in their Soft-more English. The Teacher-drone had told them to write an essay about someone they think is amazing- about someone they look up to and respect. Normally, Zim would give his assignments to his computer to complete for him, having much better things to do with his time. However, having the opportunity to express how amazing his Tallests are- how could he deny? He was overexcited to inform his Tallests about this strange human ritual and wanted to share his essay with them _immediately_. 

Zim had been, to his misfortune, paired with Dib as "Peer-Review Partners". Reluctantly, they had both exchanged essays. Zim made sure to circle every single letter with his red EDITING pen, just to spite the human. He could care less about whatever nonsense his rival had actually written. 

"Hey, stop that!" Dib made to grab his pen. Zim ducked away, sliding as far away from Dib as he could whilst obeying his reinforced "Desk-Boundaries". The teaching-drones were so stupid sometimes with their stupid rules. He hated them. He also hated Dib. 

"Make me!" He stuck out his tongue petulantly. 

"I'm serious. I worked hard on that." Dib says, glaring. 

"Oh, did you, now?" He inquires with a growing smirk. "What if I did...this!" He dramatically begins to tear straight down the middle of the stapled packet. Dib rolls his eyes, but mirrors Zim's movements. 

"I guess you don't care about your essay either, then, space-boy." Dib shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. Zim manages to stay calm for all of two seconds. 

"Wait! Wait, Dib- _stink_ , wait!" He hisses. Dib raises an expectant brow, pausing. Zim sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. "Zim does not wish for his assignment to be maimed." He states rather calmly. Dib laughs at him. 

"Okay. Then stop vandalizing my paper." He orders. The Irken grits his teeth. He gives a reluctant nod and places the packet back on his desk. 

"I hate you but _fine!"_ He seethes quietly, not wanting to summon the teacher's wrath. "Zim supposes that he can suppress his superior destructive _urges_ for the remainder of this period." He glares off to the side, his chin in his hand. 

"Dude, are you _pouting?"_ Dib teases, leaning forward in his own desk to get a better view. Zim turns his back to Dib, glaring at the wall. He hates Dib and he _especially_ hates being his desk neighbor. It's almost as if the universe were trying to spite him. 

"You should appreciate Zim's good behavior while it lasts, dirt child." He replies petulantly. "I will make up for these unfortunate restraints later, with a plan that is twice- no, _three times as brutal_ as usual." He promises with a grin aimed over his shoulder. 

Dib rolls his eyes, growling under his breath. 

"Fine, but I can handle whatever it is you dish out at me, you lizard." He grumbles. He scans over the first paragraph. "Hey, this is actually a lot worse than I was expecting." 

"Hey! Zim makes no mistakes!" He seethes. Dib, in turn, mimics Zim's earlier act of circling every single word with his red pen. "What are you doing?!" 

"Literally every single word is spelled wrong, Zim. How old are you, five?" It's a rhetorical question. Zim grunts and stands. He steps over to Dib and peers over his shoulder. 

"How?" He barks loudly and unabashedly into his ear. Dib flinshes instinctively, and hates himself for it. In the margins, he begins to write the correct spelling of each misspelled word. 

"Haven't you ever heard of a dictionary?" 

"A what?" Dib sighs, leaning back in his seat, running his hands down his face. 

"It's a book that tells you the definition of words, but it also tells you how to spell those words." He drawls out, already tired and annoyed. Zim raises a nonexistent eyebrow. 

"Why would I use a stupid book when my pak can do that?" Zim snides back, crossing his arms. Dib pauses, turning to look up at Zim with an expression of pure disbelief. 

"God, can you be any stupider?" Dib hisses. Zim snarls, indignant. 

"How dare you insult Zim's clearly superior intelligence!" He spits. "And 'stupider' isn't a word, you _hypocrite_ _!"_ Zim kicks the leg of Dib's chair for added emphasis, but also because he'd get in trouble for actually punching Dib in the middle of class. Dib stands, growling. 

"Give me my damn essay back, Zim." He demands, holding his hand out expectantly. Zim huffs and plops back into his seat, his 'nose' in the air. 

"No! Zim isn't done correcting it." He snarks. He grabs the essay and turns his back to Dib again. 

"Zim!" Dib growls. 

"Dib! Keep your voice down!" The Teacher-drone scolds from her desk. Dib sulks back into his seat, glaring instead at Zim's paper. He purposefully wrinkles the crisp sheet when he grabs it. Dib takes a sick satisfaction in the growl it elicits from Zim's turned back. He gets through another cringy paragraph before Zim speaks again. 

"Dib-thing." Zim turns to him. 

"What." He grumbles, pointedly not making eye contact. 

"Your assignment is contradictory," Zim informs him. 

"What?" This time he turns to him with a confused frown. Zim sighs dramatically, then stands. He leans over Dib's desk and shows him his paper. On it, Zim had highlighted multiple words and sentences with a neon pink highlighter. He taps the paper with a claw. 

"The assignment was to write about someone you admire and _why_ you admire them. Here, you have chosen your parental unit, and yet the tone you use in the parts I've highlighted most definitely _isn't_ admiration, or any form thereof. If anything, I feel a sense of _resentment_ and _hatred._ Have you done this intentionally?" He explains, completely in business-mode. Dib is unsure of how to respond. For someone who is always so _dense_ , he's surprised Zim picked up on anything at all. 

He should've known. 

"So what." He bites. Zim glares at him. 

"If he is not your subject of admiration then why did you pick him?" Zim questions. 

"Who else was I supposed to choose?" The question comes out sharper than Dib had wanted it to, more defensive than he would have liked. Dib sighs, running a hand through his hair and avoiding Zim's intense stare. He is silent for a tense moment. 

"You feel as if no other person is more worthy of your admiration, and yet you are disappointed because your standards are not being reached, correct?" He predicts, his voice strangely calm. Dib is starting to feel a little uncomfortable with this strange understanding. He finally meets Zim's gaze, his own hesitant and guarded. 

"I guess that's accurate, yeah." He relents. Zim nods, satisfied. 

"Then the answer is simple." He explains. Dib raises a brow. 

"And what is the answer, Zim?" He asks carefully. Zim sits up, crossing his arms. He radiates with pride- apparently for having figured out Dib's "problem". 

"Just write about yourself, then." He replies as if it's obvious. Dib chuckles dryly, but reluctantly considers it. It wasn't against the rules. "You should have plenty of material. As _loathsome_ as it is for me to admit this, Dib- _smelly,_ you have proven to be a competent adversary thus far. Considering it's Zim you are fighting against, it's fair to say that that deserves some admiration." He continues with an air of self-confidence. 

Dib is stunned, truly. That was probably the nicest thing Zim has ever said to him. He's speechless. 

Eventually Zim grows tired of waiting for an answer, and perhaps even begins to feel self-confident, if Dib was reading him correctly. Zim barks out, "What?" as if someone just insulted him. He probably had, inadvertently, and for once he feels kinda bad about it. 

"Thanks for that," Dib says, giving Zim a hesitant, thoughtful look. "I mean it." Zim huffs, and snatches his own essay off of Dib's desk. 

"It would appear our moment of temporary alliance has come to an end. I hate you. Your head is big. And I can't wait to make you eat _dirt,_ filthy _Dib_." He snarls, stomping out of the classroom. 

Reading Dib's essay, he was forced to draw some unfavorable similarities between the relationship the Dib had with his Father-unit and the relationship that Zim had with his Tallests. Dib spelled out the wrongdoings: the mistreatments, and drew out the reasoning behind his father's choices and the reasoning behind why it conflicted with his own moral compass. He gave explanations to feelings that Zim, up until that moment, couldn't even name. And those were feelings Zim loathed to admit he even felt in the first place. He explained the expectations and portrayed grief at knowing that he would never be able to stay true to himself whilst also reaching them. It was a sacrifice that he felt pressured against. A choice he loathed to make but was constantly forced to anyways, no matter how many times he made it because his father-unit was desperate to hear the other answer. 

Originally, the aftermath of reading his essay had left a sort of unease lingering in his spooch. He could faintly understand the parallels, but most of it- the deeper meaning, the deeper emotion- had been lost to him. 

But now, remembering what Zim had read, he understands it with an entirely new clarity- had for a while. The parallels were stronger now, reinforced like steel. They were study and unmoveable. There was no going back. 

Dib's Father-unit had been to him as the Tallests had been to Zim. He realizes this fact with a cold clarity. 

And now his nemesis has lost his guiding Leader, his pillar of strength. 

Zim had been proud, and then jealous, but now he just feels...

He doesn't feel proud anymore, and he definitely isn't jealous. He might actually feel a bit offended, actually. How dare the Dib assume Zim would go so far? Of course, Zim always prided himself on being the ruthless, merciless Irken that he was. 

He's always prided himself on his destructive capabilities. 

But that was before he singlehandedly, _accidentally,_ murdered nearly his entire race, and killed two more of his Tallests to boot. 

He wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone, not anymore, not after he's been forced to experience it. 

Zim stops pacing. He finally makes a decision. 


	6. Chapter 6

It was a sunny day in the middle of March. The weather was nice- not yet hot but not cold either. There was a light breeze, which carried the occasional cloud across the blue morning sky. It was the very picture of what would be classified as a beautiful day. 

But this was the day of Professor Membrane's funeral. 

It was morbidly ironic, Dib thought. Days like this were the ones he loved the most. They were the ones in which he felt most productive. They were the ones that made investigations easier and more enjoyable- like a summers hike along a forest trail, or a playful trip to the park, to most. It was his favorite type of day, and it was the day of his father's funeral. 

He felt as if this was his cosmic karma. The universe was punishing him for what he'd done, and he had no doubt that it would continue to do so until he'd properly atoned. But he was okay with that. He accepted his punishment. He knew he deserved it. He deserved everything that the universe was going to throw at him, and more. 

And even then, he won't be worthy of forgiveness. He never will be. How could he? 

_He was the worst kind of person._

He didn't even cry at the funeral, or any point thereafter. Instead of burning grief, all he could feel was a cold, heavy sensation in his chest. The weight of it left him feeling exhausted, tired. His arms and legs felt heavier than usual, and the colors around him had lost their vibrancy. 

Gaz didn't cry at the funeral either, but Dib never expected her to. She was the kind of person who preferred to suffer in solitude. She was cold and heartless on the outside, but he had always known that those were just her barriers. He knew she wasn't entirely apathetic. He'd heard her crying softly in the early hours of the morning when they were both supposed to be asleep. He knew she was grieving. But he couldn't bring himself to offer her any comfort. 

He wasn't the right person. He didn't deserve that. 

How could he do something so terrible as try to tell her it'd be okay after what he'd done? He had no right. 

She deserved better, and he was absolutely sure of this. She deserved a better brother than him. Because Dib was the worst kind of person. _He was absolutely sure of this._

They stood together upon the stage, alongside a few of their father's closest assistants, and President Man. They stood together upon a stage he couldn't really remember taking them to, dressed in onyx. His trench coat had since been abandoned, shoved deep into the pit of his closet. He couldn't bear to look at it, not anymore. Instead, he wore a black turtle neck beneath a suit jacket and some striped slacks, because his sister didn't want him to look like the slob he was in front of pretty much the entire world. The clothes weren't even his. He doesn't know where exactly they came from, but he knew that they weren't his father's, and that's really all he cared about. He'd shoot himself in the leg before he allowed himself to wear his father's clothes. 

Although Dib was just the kind of shitty, terrible son who'd do something like that, wouldn't he?

He'd deserve the hatred and scorn it would earn him. He should be grateful, it'd probably be the most attention anyone would ever give him. 

_Look at the crazy boy desperately trying to be like the father he'd taken for granted! It's almost as if he'd told the man to kill himself just so he could take his spotlight for himself!_

**He was the worst kind of person.**

"Dib." 

He blinks, turning his tired, empty gaze to his left. Gaz is staring up at him with small frown. 

"Huh?" Her frown deepens. She waves a hand out towards the ocean of black surrounding them. He considers the crowd, finding a million faces all staring expectantly at him. 

Oh. 

"It's time for your speech, Dib. Can you do it?" Her tone isn't as harsh as it usually is. It hasn't been for a few days now, hasn't been since...

Can he do it? 

Dib has never had stage fright. If anything, he's done nothing but crave the attention of an audience, seek it, _wish_ for it. He's never been the type to feel self-conscious. 

He pulls out the folded piece of paper he'd tucked into his inside pocket, regarding it. It was the speech he'd been told to write and prepare to give at the ceremony. The paper was folded and crinkled, and although he'd had plenty of time to write, it was still blank. 

Nobody knew that, of course, but they didn't need to. 

Or did they? 

Should they?

Should he tell them all that he couldn't bring himself to write down and deliver the lies that they wanted to hear from him? 

Should he tell them that he isn't the one who deserves to glorify the man that he's recklessly taken for granted?

That he isn't the one worthy of carrying on the legacy this man has poured his life into building for him?

That he so selfishly disregarded the only person who'd ever taken the time to ask if he was okay whenever he came home banged up? 

That he had ignored and disrespected countless times, just because their opinions differed?

That he had told him that he didn't love him, in the final words that he had ever spoken to him?

**That he was the worst kind of person?**

"Dib?"

He blinks. 

"You do it." He says, quietly, and hands her the blank sheet of paper. She regards him, a rare amount of concern evident in her gaze. Dib avoids it, because he doesn't deserve her concern. He wishes for a brief moment that she'd go back to hating him. Then he remembers that he doesn't even deserve that. 

He deserves nothing. 

Gaz unfolds the paper. Her frown deepens, but she resolutely takes his place at the podium. She places the empty sheet carefully upon it and surveys the crowd. Countless faces watch her, now, silently. Their eyes are red and puffy, and tears stain their cheeks. They await her words, expectant but solemn in doing so. 

Gaz speaks. Dib doesn't hear a single word of it. He watches her, notices how much she reminds him of their father. The way she stands before the crowd, her posture is confident and radiates authority despite the sadness that lingers in every silent word she delivers. His heart aches and he is forced to redirect his gaze. 

He doesn't deserve her. 

Her speech is longer than he expected, but he's become somewhat detached to the flow of time, as of recently. Moments pass before he's really had a chance to process what's going on. It's becoming more common for him. He doesn't really care. It gets him through the days. Not that he deserves such a blessing. 

He takes that for granted, too. Ignores it, just like he does everything else, nowadays. 

One moment he's on stage surrounded by millions of people, and the next he's shuffling into the driver's seat of his Honda Civic. 

His father had gotten it for him for his eighteenth birthday. It was black, and had been personally optimized as soon as he'd gotten his license. 

He wanted to wreck the damn thing. 

"I wanna go to Bloaties." Gaz says, interrupting his thoughts yet again. He forcibly lets go of the steering wheel, which he had been gripping tightly in his fists. The car wasn't even started, yet. 

"You sure?" He finds himself asking. She nods, pulling out her GS5. 

"I wouldn't suggest it if I was just gonna start crying." She remarks, a hint of her usual contempt making a reappearance for the first time in days. Dib nods. He starts the car. 

He's pulling into the parking lot after another blank in time, finding his gaze drawn to the disgusting mascot towering over the establishment. He's not sure how it's possible, but he's pretty sure that Bloaty is now twice the size he was six years ago. He briefly wonders how the man has avoided succumbing to death via stroke or heart attack for so long. 

Dib laughs- a sudden and short huff of utter disbelief. Gaz squints at him, rightfully put off. 

"You're acting weird again, Dib." She states, eyeing him suspiciously as his expression goes blank. 

"But I'm always acting weird, Gaz." He reminds her. His voice sounds off to her- it has for a while now. She doesn't reply at first, instead packing her console away in her purse and opening her door. 

"Let's go. I'm hungry." She asserts, instead. He blinks. He follows her inside. 

They only stand in line for a couple of moments before one of the workers recognizes them as the one's they saw on the funeral broadcast just an hour prior, and they are motioned to the front of the line. They're even given their order for free, which Dib supposes is nice, not that he plans on eating any of it anyways. 

How could he? He doesn't-

"Look. We both know I'm not the type of person who does the whole _comfort_ thing, so I'm only going to ask you this once, and I expect an honest answer." Gaz states, firmly. 

"Huh?" Is his eloquent response. She sighs from her side of the booth they're now apparently sitting in. 

"Are you okay?" She asks. The question is genuine, and Dib isn't sure how to respond. Gaz and 'caring' are polar opposites- two different charges that should never touch. He takes in a slow breath. She said she wanted an honest answer from him. How could he lie to her?

Except he honestly didn't know how to answer that question. He knew he was fine, physically. None of his bones were broken, and for once his body wasn't covered in bruises. But mentally? 

Who even knew at this point. He'd been classified as 'crazy' or 'insane' for nearly his entire life. Maybe he actually was? And he knew he should be experiencing at least some form of grief. He'd just lost his sole parent, after all. But was he? Is that what he was feeling? 

He couldn't really define much of what was going on in his head. Not that he had ever really been able to in the first place, though. It was too confusing to think about. 

"I don't know, Gaz." He answers, because it's the only honest answer he can bear to give her. She grunts around her pizza. 

"Have you talked to Zim recently?" She asks next. The sudden subject change throws him for a loop. He raises a brow.

"No. Why?" He asks. Rich amethysts regard him quietly from across the table. 

"I think you should." Is all she says, casually returning to her pizza. 

"Why, though?" He pushes. "Don't tell me you of all people expect me to apologize to him." He challenges hotly. He hadn't forgotten his moment of blind rage against the green menace. Gaz raises a brow. 

"Actually, yes, I do." She corrects, her tone becoming edgier. Dib crosses his arms. 

"Why? I didn't do anything he didn't deserve." He snarls. Blinks. 

_I didn't say anything he didn't deserve._

Something clenches around his throat, and he suddenly feels guilty. His gaze falls to his lap. 

"Sorry, that was uncalled for." He mutters.

_Was it?_

"Yeah, I don't know what your problem is, Dib. But I do know that Zim is your only friend, and a friend is something you need, right now. Your weirdness is starting to get to me and I don't like it. Go talk to him so you can start feeling better." She says, sounding...

...concerned? 

It was such a Gaz way to tell him he needs a buddy to go cry on. Dib shrugs. Zim isn't really his friend, either. 

"Zim and I aren't friends, though." He corrects. Gaz sighs again. 

"He probably could be, if you apologized to him and stopped playing your stupid pranks on him all the time." She corrects back. 


	7. Chapter 7

"Letty?"

"Here." 

It's been twenty-three days.

"Tae?"

"Here."

Twenty-three long, excruciatingly _boring_ days. 

"Keef?"

"Here!"

He wasn't worried. 

"Matthew?" 

"Here."

Why should he be?

"Dib?" 

His seat is still empty, just as it has been for nearly a month now. He glances over at it, glaring a silent accusation at the old, worn piece of furniture. He knew it wasn't the one to blame, but his wrath had to go _somewhere_.

It's frustrating, really. Zim hates being _patient_ the most out of all the things he hates! He growls, clenching his fists beneath his desk. 

But he knew he had to wait. It would do more harm than good to push the Dib before he was ready. As unfortunate a dilemma as it was, Zim knows that it cannot be helped. If he hoped for his plan to work, he had to go about things carefully. One mistake, and he would lose the last thing he has left worth living for. 

The stakes were higher than ever. 

And now that he knew the truth? About everything? 

He wasn't going to let his ignorance get in his way any longer. 

"Zim?" His disgustingly cheerful science-educator calls his name, drawing his attention. He immediately straightens in his desk- an instinctual reaction. He raises both of his hands high. 

"Zim is HeeeEEEERE!" He bellows, always the loudest and therefore the **BEST** at _rolecall!_ He grins, proud, as he basks in his greatness. 

"Yeah... Zim? I love your enthusiasm! But, you know you don't _have_ to-"

"Yes, yes. Bask in my glory and greatness for I am _amazing!"_ He boasts. His drone-educator waits patiently for him to finish, calmly allowing him to get his daily dosage of self-assurance before proceeding with the day's lesson. 

"Any-who! Today we're gonna learn about chemical bonds! Who's excited?" The woman claps, bouncing over to her table of _periods_. _The wretched thing._

His peers groan out in misery. He relates to their pain, truly, but a soldier knows better than to let his enemy witness any kind of _weakness._

They would have been culled long ago had they been living under similar circumstances. They were all such useless weaklings.

Except for the Dib-human. Even having grown up amongst them, he was different. He has an instinct for survival that they don't. Zim can appreciate that about him, even if it meant he was always getting in his way. It was admirable. He had all the makings to become an excellent soldier. He was so courageous and determined, all the time. He always bounced back, no matter what happened, better and stronger than before. 

Except for this time, it would seem. It's been twenty-three days and the human still has not returned to his normal routine. 

He shouldn't be worried. 

Dib is strong. He will pull through. 

As annoying a trait as that is, he was counting on it. 

It is necessary for the mission. 

"Now as you all know, various atoms can be bonded together based on how many-"

"Sorry I'm late." Zim perks up immediately, having been staring down at his notebook for a while now. His gaze immediately finds the subject of his thoughts, looking more tired and thin than he has ever before. 

Dib Membrane stands in the doorway, his shoulders heavy and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. The bags under his eyes are darker than they were before, and he has a slight stubble across his chin. Golden eyes immediately dart over to lavender. 

"I overslept." Is his excuse. His voice is low, the drawl of a man who's lost everything. 

Zim frowns, but his expression is overall neutral. His spooch twists with an emotion he can't quite put a name to, besides the fact that feeling it is making him slightly uncomfortable. 

"That is A-okay, darling. Please take your seat. We were just getting started." The drone instructs. Dib nods and shuffles over to the empty desk beside him. He sets his book down sloppily upon it's surface and seemingly falls into his chair as if the simple act of taking his seat drained the last bit of energy he had left. His posture remains poor, slouched back. His hands find his pockets again. His head tilts slightly to the right.

His neck was probably starting to finally tire from carrying the huge thing around all the time. Zim snickers. 

Dibs gaze immediately flickers to him. His dark brows are furrowed into a knot. He doesn't say anything, as the education-drone rambles on about whatever, but he doesn't have to. The empty, dull sparks of hatred and exhaustion in his eyes immediately strike down whatever hint of amusement he had been feeling. Zim crosses his arms, glaring down at his desk instead. 

It would seem the situation is worse than he thought. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. 

But what could he do about it?

What could _he_ do about it? They were enemies! He knew plenty about the humans' traditional comfort practices, as _disgustingly personal_ as they are, but he wasn't qualified to deliver such a gesture to the Dib-worm. If he did, he was positive the gesture would have the exact opposite of the intended effect on him. It might even make the situation worse!

But if not him, then who else? Zim glances around. 

No, not the skool children. If there was one thing the two of them had in common, it would be their hatred of their classmates. No, the dirt-pigs won't work. It had to be someone special to the human. 

But the only people he could think of were the Dib-sister and the Dib's parental-unit. Obviously the parental-unit was out of the picture, and he doubted he could convince his scary sister to deliver the comfort message for him. He growls, low in his throat. 

He has no choice. 

The bell signaling the end of first-period rings. 

But does he need to? 

Does he want to?

The bell for second-period rings. 

Does he really want to? 

The bell for third-period rings. 

Is it worth it? 

The bell for fourth-period rings. 

Is he ready? 

The students are dismissed for lunch. 

He has to be. He is Zim. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter probably wasn't as exciting as the last few have been, but I've already decided that this story isn't going to be very action-heavy, but rather more focused on character development and interactions. That being said, the next chapter is going to be released either tomorrow or later today, depending on how early I get off work. 
> 
> Thank you guys for all the love and support, and I'm glad you guys are enjoying this as much as I have while writing it!   
> I would greatly appreciate some constructive criticism, as I'm always looking for ways I can improve myself and whatever it is I happen to be doing. Thanks, Xx.


	8. Chapter 8

Dib knew it was only a matter of time before the tiny Irken decided to approach him. To be quite honest, though, he was a bit surprised that the green menace had waited so long. The moment he walked through the classroom door that morning, he was positive that Zim would be the first to say something to him. He had expected a taunt or a snarky comment about some apparent victory he had earned. He expected Zim to call him weak, or a coward, or to criticize him over something stupid. When all he had received instead had been an odd, almost annoyed stare, Dib was a little put-off, but he was grateful for the small moment of peace while he had it. 

He had been nervous about returning to school. So nervous, he'd actually avoided it for another week following the funeral. 

He couldn't bear to return to some semblance of a normal routine and witness all of the people around him carrying on with their lives as if _nothing had changed._

As if _nothing_ had _happened._

He couldn't do it. 

Gaz had been the one to push him into returning. Quite frankly, he never wanted to come back. He didn't care about graduation. He was only doing it for his father, to make him proud. A high school diploma had been one of the expectations he didn't mind fulfilling. He had even taken extra lengths to ensure that he'd graduate the top of his class- not that that in itself was much of a challenge. It was something he could do, that he knew would make his father proud. 

But now? 

It's not like his father is going to be there at graduation. 

At least before, it might've been through a video feed, but it still would have been him. 

Now it wouldn't be. Now all they had were his dad-bots. And neither of them can bear hearing those speak after the incident.

Now Dib wasn't so sure that graduation was worth it. 

Now Dib wasn't quite sure that anything was worth it. 

His motivation for a long time had been protecting the Earth against Zim, but now he knew that Zim wasn't really a threat. He hasn't been for some time now. 

He wasn't sure he had the motivation to fight him anymore, either. 

He didn't have the motivation to do anything, anymore. 

Dib didn't know what to do. 

So when Gaz harassed him into agreeing to return to school, he was hesitant to comply. Sure, he was scared of her, but it's hard to be scared of a horrible fate when it's something he's started to long for, as of lately. The sound of death has lost its edge, to him. If someone were to point a gun at him, he'd probably encourage them to shoot him, if he's being honest with himself. 

He's lost his drive- his will to live. He knows that living this misery is supposed to be his punishment. Living to face the consequences of his actions is supposed to be his fate, and he's a coward for wanting the easy way out of it. 

Zim would be right to call him a coward. He deserves it. 

But he can't bring himself to lie to Gaz. He's a terrible person, but she doesn't deserve that. So Dib listens to her, instead of skipping or hiding out somewhere away from other people. He listens to her and drags himself out of bed to get ready. 

He gets out of the shower and begins to dress when he notices that his pants are looser than they used to be. One look in the mirror and he notices the faint outline of his ribs, which hadn't been visible a month prior. He knows it's because he can't bring himself to eat. He knows, and yet it still surprises him to see the blatant consequence of his actions. What surprises him further is the sick, deep-rooted satisfaction he feels at the sight of himself, starved and malnourished. 

He deserves this. 

A slow, painful death is exactly the kind of punishment he deserves. 

He feels, for the first time since the accident, that this is the only good thing that's happened to him. He's determined to see it through to the end. 

When lunchtime comes, he doesn't even bother to collect his lunch. He isn't hungry, anyway, so it'd just be a waste. Instead, he plops into his seat beside his sister, gazing blankly down at the table's surface. The silence only lasts for a few brief moments, but to his dismay, it isn't his sister that breaks it. 

"Dib-thing." He glances up, meeting fake lavender irises. He knew it was only a matter of time. 

"Go away, Zim. I'm not in the mood." He warns, but even to him, his voice sounds hollow and dull. The Irken crosses his arms with a frown. But when he opens his mouth to reply, Gaz beats him to it. 

"Whatever you two weirdoes are about to argue about, take it somewhere else. I'm three levels away from finishing this game, and if you make me lose now, you will _suffer_ _."_ She warns. However, she stands with her GS5 and walks away before either of them can respond. Dib stares after her. 

It's not like her to say one thing and then do another. 

_"Go talk to him so you can start feeling better."_

Dib doesn't deserve that, though. 

A tray of food is slid in front of him. He blinks, glancing between it and the only other person who it could possibly belong to. Zim sits calmly across from him, pulling out his own sack lunch. 

Was this supposed to be a peace offering of some kind? Or is it a trick? It would be just like Zim to kick him while he's down. 

"Do not worry yourself, human. Zim has brought the tray directly from the food drone to you, and has not tampered with it in any way." He says as he fishes out a sandwich from his bag. Dib continues to eye him warily. 

"I don't trust you." He states. He doesn't make any move towards the food. Zim glares at him, then sighs in resignation. 

"Of course. I shouldn't expect otherwise. We've been at each other's throats as long as we've known each other. And with good reason, too." He agrees. Dib can smell the peanut butter from across the table. Zim flicks his wrist nonchalantly. "However, I didn't come over here so we can talk about how much we hate and despise each other." He says. Dib raises a brow, eyeing the strangely calm Irken. 

"Then why are you here, Zim? Come to harass me yet again?" Dib prompts. Zim gives him a taunting grin. 

"Zim would love that, Dib-pig, but no." The grin drops and is replaced with an uncomfortable frown. His eyes flicker around the lunchroom. He appears uneasy, but determined. It's a shame Dib can't bring himself to enjoy it. Before, he'd do anything just to see the green menace squirm. But, now?

Now he just feels empty. 

Zim doesn't finish his sentence. His words are abandoned at the tip of his tongue when the Dib's gaze drops to the table. His greatest nemesis can't even keep his attention on him for more than two minutes before that big head of his swallows him up! 

Zim coughs, drawing his attention back to him, where it _belongs_. 

"I don't need a pity party. Just go away. Go take over the planet like you always wanted and leave me alone, Zim." Dib tries. Zim balks, offended. 

"You would give up? Just like that?" He snarls, standing to loom over his enemy. The human sighs. He stares up at him with the gaze of a soldier who's accepted defeat. 

"Yep. I'm giving up, Zim. You win." Dib surrenders, his voice empty.

Zim hates it. 

"You're free to take over the Earth. I'm not going to stop you." 

He hates it so _much!_

Zim slams his palms against the table with a snarl. 

How dare he do _this?_

How dare he do this _now?_

"Shut up!" He screams, panting. Dib flinches back. A few surrounding tables glance over in interest. Dib rolls his eyes and collects his things. 

"Fine, whatever. Take over the Earth or don't. I don't _care_ what you do, Zim. Just stay away from me." He relents. Zim stares after him, watching as he dumps the tray of untouched food into the garbage. 

"Dib." He grumbles quietly. The human doesn't hear him. He heads towards the door. 

They have seven minutes and thirty-two seconds until the bell for fifth-period rings. 

Zim still hasn't told him. 

The Dib leaves. 

Zim thinks, maybe it's too soon to tell him. 

Not because he can't do it. Because he is Zim, and he can do anything. But because the Dib-worm isn't ready to hear it yet. 

Yeah, it's because the human isn't ready yet. 

It's time for plan B. 


	9. Chapter 9

"Plan B... plan B..." The Irken paces before the livingroom television- a habit he's picked up from the disgusting inhabitants of this dreaded planet. His intense magenta eyes are narrowed in deep thought, his bottom lip jutted outwards. The clicks of his heels echo around the room. The TV is muted, but upon its screen displays a picture film being broadcast from one of the popular children's networks. His loyal robot minion sits mournfully upon the coach, silently grieving over the interruption of his cartoon experience. 

Oh, how that robot loves his cartoons...

If only his Master would quite _pacing_ and let him finish! 

"Rrrgh! This is useless!" Zim snarls, stomping his foot. "I'm such a _genius_ and yet the Dib's big head is too _big_ for even _me_ to come up with a creative solution to fix! That stupid _monkey_ and his big-head problems! _Curse_ him!" Zim crosses his arms with a frown. Gir tilts his head, curiosity making him forgot his tears. 

"What did Mary do this time?" The robot asks. Zim throws his head back with a groan. 

"I can't believe I'm even bothering to fix him when he's done nothing but be a pain in my _squatch! UGH!"_ He lets himself fall limp on the couch cushions, staring blankly at the ceiling.

A thought occurs to him. 

"Wait! Why _am_ I helping him?! When I was all _shmoopy_ that piece of _DIRT_ took advantage of me!" Zim glares hard at the ceiling. 

"Uh, wouldn't you have done the same thing, too, back then?" His computer chimes in. Zim growls. 

"Of course I would! And I still should! The Dib-monkey deserves every once of my wrath for all the trouble he's caused me!" He states and sits up. 

"But he was only trying to protect his planet from world domination." The computer supplies. 

"Did I ask for your opinion?!" 

"But I'm-"

"No, I didn't!" 

"But I'm-"

"NO, I DIDN'T!"

"But-"

"SILENCE!"

Zim sucks in a deep breath, waiting for a response. When he doesn't get one, he lets out a satisfied huff. 

"...But I'm just stating facts." 

Zim screams, tugging on his antennae so hard his vision blurs. Gir eventually joins in, screaming maniacally whilst running intense circles in the center of the room. The computer sighs, but it goes unheard over the noise. Eventually, his vocal tubes go raw and he ends up having a coughing fit, leaving him a choking mess. Gir mimics the action as well, until, finally, they're both quiet lumps upon the couch. 

"What about the mission?" It questions in the aftermath. An antennae perks. Zim frowns. 

"The mission?" He asks, voice raspy. 

"You know, the mission to rebuild the Irken Empire?" It clarifies. Zim grunts. 

"What about it?" His tone says 'get to the point'. 

"Don't you need the human?" Zim frowns. 

"Don't be stupid. The human was never going to be anything more than my slave. Knowing him, he would just object to everything I chose to do, anyways." Zim explains. 

"Then why were you so insistent on having him join you?" The computer questions. The Irken sneers. 

"Because I always get more done when the human _isn't_ trying to foil my genius plans! At the time it seemed like the obvious choice but now that the human is a sad, pathetic _shmoop-baby,_ clearly a reconsideration is in order!" He snaps. 

"Mary just needs a hug!" Gir chimes in, hugging a piggy doll he probably stole. Zim glares at him, baring his teeth. 

"Zim will do no such thing!" He shutters. That boy was so _dirty_ sometimes. 

"Gir actually has a point for once. Human affection is a necessary key to handling grief in a non-destructive fashion." The computer supplies. 

"Greef?" 

"Grief. It's a term used to describe the feelings a human experiences when they experience the loss of a loved one or someone they cared about a lot. The closest Irken equivalent would be **dar'manda**." The computer informs. His frown deepens. 

_The situation just keeps getting worse._

"And how do they heal from this?" Zim inquires. 

"With time, according to my sources." The computer replies. Zim growls. 

"I don't have all the time in the world to waste on a stupid Earth-pig! If I'm not fast enough, some other _rat_ is going to beat me to it!" He hisses and kicks the couch. Gir, having become bored, bounces over to the wall and un-mutes the TV. 

"Well, you could try-"

"TACOS! IT'S TACO TUESDAY, EVERYBODY! COME ON-"

"-or you could try-"

"-TO THE CRAZY TACO TODAY!" 

"GIR!" Zim shouts over the loud advertisements. The SIR unit glances back at him with a gleeful smile. 

"Yeeeeaaaah?" 

"Turn the volume down!" Zim commands. Gir deflates. 

"Aw, okay..." He twists the dial. Zim watches as the tiny robot settles on the ground close to the screen. 

"Anyways, Computer, repeat what you just said?" 

"I said, you could try-" 

"AWWW BOO HOO! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M GONNA DOOOO!" 

"GIR!" He snaps back around to find his stupid robot at the dial again, giggling madly. He stomps over and grabs his hand, pulling it away roughly. 

"IS YOUR CHILD depressed or sad all the time?"

"How many times do I have to- WAIT!" Zim steps in front of the screen. On it, a doctor is standing next to a woman and what looks like a lifeless child. The woman is sobbing, holding her responseless child protectively in her arms. 

"Then cheer them up with AntiDepro! With this exclusive Membrane-patented antidepressant, your child will never be sad again!" The woman shoves a red pill into the child's mouth. She blinks, swallows, and then life returns to her eyes. She turns to her mother and the two share a passionate embrace. 

"I'm so glad you're okay!" The mother sobs. The image cuts to the woman talking to the doctor. Her child is in the background, playing happily with some other kids. 

"Amely hasn't been the same since we lost our beloved Biscuit." An image of a dog named Biscuit appears briefly. "I was worried I was gonna lose her, too! She wasn't eating, or talking, and her eyes looked so _cold!_ But thanks to AntiDepro, I have my lively baby girl back! Thanks, AntiDepro!" 

Bright colors reflect off of glassy magenta eyes, wide as they are. Zim blinks, then, smirks. An idea is forming. 

"Computer!" 

"I wouldn't advise-"

"I DIDN'T ASK FOR YOUR ADVICE, NOW DID I?!" The Irken shrieks. The computer is silent for a brief moment. 

"No, sir." Zim nods, satisfied. 

"Good. Now, fetch me the blueprints for these _AntiDepro_ pills and begin fabrication immediately. We have a lot of work to do in order to cure the Dib of his _shmoop,_ and _quicklyyy!"_


	10. Chapter 10

Zim walks into his second-period class with the gait of a well-trained soldier- a trademark of his classic personality. His steps are strong and determined, as they should be. They mirror the feelings whirling around in his chest cavity. He has determined a new course of action that he is confident to enact. He is sure that this time, things will work out in his favor. He will cure the Dib of his icky sad-feels, and with the Dib back to normal, he will finally be able to begin coercing him into joining him. 

Of course, such a process is already destined to be quite lengthy. Zim has already considered the alternatives, but none of them sounded as beneficial to him as this. 

For example, he could have simply left Dib as he is. He is weakened in this state- a ghost of his former self, both physically and mentally. And while this would most certainly make Zim's job easier- after all the boy himself had blatantly surrendered- it would also negate the desired reason for having the Dib join him in the first place. It took a great deal of pacing and... courage, to admit to himself why, really, he even wanted the Dib to join him. Such a task is never easy for an Irken, let alone someone of his class. 

He was comfortable admitting his strengths as his nemesis. Rivalry amidst the Empire was honorable, encouraged, even. It provided a way to strengthen one's flaws and to more accurately locate another's under pressure. Being able to acknowledge the strengths within your rival meant you understand the areas you're weak in and aim to improve them through the exploitation of said rivalry. And it's never just a one-way street. The complexity of the Irken Rivalry and the amount of manipulation and contorted respect it creates is difficult for most lesser species to comprehend, but it's one of the leading foundations that led the Empire to become as powerful as it is. Without the use of rivalries, Irkens wouldn't be nearly as dangerous as they are. 

And Zim has chosen Dib as his rival- his Nemesis. The Dib is admirable and possesses qualities that Zim understands he can improve in himself. Dib is thoughtful, or at least has become more-so throughout his stay on Earth. Rarely, now, does he ever do anything without thinking it through. Most of his actions might seem reckless on the surface, and to an extent, they are. But Zim knows that deep down that craziness is just how his brain works. It might sound crazy, but it's also _smart._ The boy can be a mad-genius sometimes. 

And stupid, too. But smart-stupid. 

The Dib is also brave. Zim knows how fragile his body is, as unfortunate as it is. Yet, the Dib never seems concerned with his own mortality. He's always leaping over roofs, crashing his stolen ship, electrocuting himself, breakings his bones, cutting himself, burning himself, _breaking himself, all the time._ And yet he always meets Zim halfway with the angry determination of one of his human horn-cows. Never has he faltered, never has he shown fear at the face of danger, never has he backed down from a challenge. Dib can be a stubborn force to be reckoned with, and Zim respects this about him. 

Zim wants to be the kind of Invader that lives without any regrets. He aims to take a step and always follow through. He aims to never stray from his goals and to always stay true to himself. 

Dib forces him to acknowledge the guilt that lingers inside of him, unbidden. Dib forces him to acknowledge the truth of his existence. The truth of his relation with his Tallest, and his people. The truth about his mission- his only purpose in life besides frying vortdogs. 

Dib forces him to acknowledge that he isn't the best he can be, 

-but that there is still time and room for growth. That if he keeps working hard enough, one day, he will get there. One day he will be everything he wants to be, even if he is corrupt. He knows that fighting the corruption will make things extra challenging, but he is determined. He wants more than anything to be admired and respected. But before he can earn that, he needs to fix himself. 

He needs to fix himself before he can fix his Empire. 

And in order to fix himself, he needs his rival. 

Healthy and _thriving_. 

The death of his father-unit was a huge set-back. Up until that point, their progress was slow, but steady. Zim had arranged his schemes around a specific schedule which gradually weened the human from a tight-packed schedule of _doom_ and allowed Zim to focus a thread of his attention on creating- _strengthening_ \- their rivalry, instead. He'd never stated such a term in description of their relationship, but he didn't _have to._ That was the thing that solidified his choice in the human. He didn't have to explain it to him- he just _understood._ Dib understood. 

Zim takes a seat at his assigned desk. 

But now? 

Now it's as if he's back at the first square. Perhaps even further behind then that! He's at square negative thirty- _seven!_

He glances to his left. His seat is still empty, even as the education-drone stands at his desk for attendance. The Dib is known for being tardy. Even before the accident, he's been known to cut his time thin chasing whatever Earth-ridden monsters he can find. But ever since, it's obvious that he's lost the last ounce of care that he had. He's gone more often than not. Zim rarely sees him anymore. Had he not already had a spy bug planted in the worms respite chamber, he wouldn't have even known if the boy was still alive or not. 

Which was unfortunate, because Zim needed to proceed with phase 2 of his plan. In order to deliver the first dosage of his improved shmoop-medicine, he needed to be with the Dib in person. He is sore to admit he lacks enough knowledge of human physiology to confidently deliver the antidote remotely, otherwise, he'd have done so already. But alas his great knowledge has failed him, and he is wary of messing this up for fear of the human's uncertain reaction to the treatment. If he had his way, the delivery would take place in his medbay, where he'd be able to watch and properly respond to any ill side-effects that may occur. But an in-person delivery will have to suffice. At least he has some of his tools present if needed. 

The last thing he wants is to accidentally kill the stupidly weak Earthling because his body is too sensitive to not be poisoned by something that's meant to help him. 

Stupid Dib. 

"Hey, Zim?" The Irken tenses. He's longed to hear his name called, but not by _him,_ of all the foul monkeys that _dare_ to converse with him. He turns in his seat to address the ginger with a scowl. 

"What do you _want?"_ He isn't in the mood today. His patience is already stretched thin thanks to the Dib's stupid _disappearance._

He really regrets not replacing that tracker, now. 

"I just wanted to ask you if Dib's been doing okay, lately? Cuz of, _yanno_ , I've been worried about him! And he hasn't been to school all week!" Keef asks. He sounds worried, in that annoying voice of his that refuses to drop even a single decibel. Zim thanks his wig for muffling it, even if just slightly. 

Then he blinks. Because Dib _has_ been absent all week. It's _Thursday._ He mutters a curse under his breath and turns around. 

"I just figured, since he's your best friend and all, you'd know better than anyone if he's okay? Well, is he? Have you spoken to him outside of school? Or-" 

_How could he have lost track of time like that?!_

_AGAIN?!_

He is well aware of what **dar'manda** can do to an Irken if left to their own devices for too long, which is why Zim has carried the antidote on his person at every moment since it's creation. And why he's been anxiously waiting for the right moment to present itself. He has no idea how a human handles such a terrifying emotion. So far, the human has appeared stable, at the very least, but knowing Dib as well as he did...

Dib is known to flip quite suddenly. He is extreme in the way he feels his emotions, just as Zim is. 

(He admires that, too.)

Yet, why has he wasted so much precious time _waiting_ when he should have already **_acted?!_**

He spent so much time _monologuing_ and _thinking,_ just trying to run everything through in his head, to double-check everything, to make sure he's accounted for all possible obstacles and outcomes! 

The ONE TIME he doesn't act _thoughtlessly_ and **_FOUR DAYS GO BY!_**

Zim raises a pristine hand into the air, his expression slightly pinched. He can feel a bead of sweat sliding down the back of his head. 

"Teacher-drone! Zim requires the leave of sickness! My sp- er, stomach, is about to _explode!"_ He hollers, already leaving his seat. He's out the door before he hears a reply. Not that a 'no' would have stopped him, anyways. He is Zim. Nothing can stop him. 

The Irken races down the hallway, his boots clicking along the dirty tile. He doesn't stop when he passes the front doors. He doesn't stop when he leaves the front gate. He doesn't stop until he's at the Membrane house's front door. He gives four firm knocks. 

No answer. He knocks again. 

_No answer._ He goes around the side of the house. With his pak-legs he scales the wall up to his bedroom window. Two slightly trembling claws grip the sill. It's locked. 

Zim is forced to return to the front of the house. Only then does he notice that Dib's land vehicle is gone. He pauses, a thought forming. 

Perhaps he can track it? He's positive the vehicle possesses a navigational upgrade of some sort. And such a device would require some kind of guidance chip. Those, Zim knows, can be traced. A device extends from his pak. 

"Computer!" He's running home, now. 

"Whaaaat?" It groans. Zim sneers. 

"Locate the Dib-worm's four-wheeled device!" He orders, rounding a corner. 

"You mean his car?" It asks. 

"Yes! Now, hurry!" He barks. "And ready the voot! I'll be home soon!" He adds, beginning to pant. Wherever that pig was, he wasn't going on foot. 

Maybe he _could_ bring him to the base, after all? The Dib _has_ already surrendered. Maybe he won't resist? 

Zim shakes his head, finally entering his yard. He slams the door shut behind him, ignoring the robo-parents as usual. 

"Coordinates located for the Dib's car!" The computer declares. Zim takes a breath, collecting himself. 

"Good! Send the coordinates to the voot and bring me to the landing bay." He instructs. A portion of the floor glows beneath him and sends him upwards. The voot, already running, chimes, signaling it's received the coordinates. The Irken climbs in and settles into the pilot's seat. A map opens, showing the destination. He squints, zooming the image in. 

What is he doing _there?_

He grips the yoke and takes off. A fast take-off, because it's still open daylight. There are people wandering about. 

Maybe he's just doing his usual para- _whatever_ nonsense. The foresty mountains were a typical location for the sorts of creatures he likes to chase, according to the countless times he's been told so when asked why on _Irk_ he insists on spending so much time hiking through useless vegetation. Maybe he's just hunting another bigfeets. 

That's probably it. 

The Dib-sister probably became irritated with all his moping and told him to do something fun to cheer him up. The Dib likes to hunt his monsters and goblins, that's for sure. 

But at this time of day? Don't all his creatures come out at night? 

And yet again, don't most bad things happen at night, too? 

He's probably just worried about nothing. He's always been too paranoid. _It's just another thing he needs to correct._

He rounds the mountain, able to fly lower now that he's left the city. The Dib sure is pretty far from civilization. He usually is during his investigations. 

He comes to a sharp face in the mountain. The voot chimes again. 

**Destination Reached!**

Here? But he doesn't see anything! All he see's is dense forest and tall rocky cliffs and a thin road and...

He stops breathing. It's hard to see from this distance. 

The road is thin and unused. There is only one set of tire marks in the otherwise undisturbed dirt. It lacks a protective barrier, like most he's seen usually have. 

He knows what they're for. They're to protect drivers from veering over the edge. 

Shaking holds grip the yolk tightly and slowly push forward. The ship tilts forward. The wreckage below him comes into view. 

There was no barrier stopping the tracks from veering. 

He'd been so focused on the mountain itself he didn't consider the rocky cliff beneath him. 

The cliff which scales down farther than some of the tallest buildings on Earth. Full of Rocks and sharp edges. 

The vehicle, he can see, is lodged between two large pillars of rock three-quarters down the mountain. 

It's destroyed beyond repair. 

What about its passenger? 

The situation doesn't look good. The voot lowers, until Zim finds himself level with the car. It's sideways. The windows are broken, and so is most of the exterior. Actually, it looks more like a wad of crumpled paper than a car, currently. 

Zim chuckles a soft, airy sound, somehow standing on unsteady legs. He climbs onto the dash, trying to get a better view. 

He needs to assess the damage before he can do anything else. 

He can see the Dib's head in between the seats, hanging limply to the side. Somehow the car was flipped so that the front was facing the mountainside. This means that Zim cannot see his face. 

That won't do. 

He needs to check his vitals. 

He extends his pak legs for better mobility. He can't risk putting too much extra weight on the car, lest it becomes unstable and falls. Any further damage to the vehicle could be detrimental to its passenger. That won't do. So he instead uses his legs to climb between the rocks themselves, hanging carefully between them. The car is wedged into a pretty tight gap. He maneuvers above the car, to the driver's seat. He has a better view, now. The ceiling has been crushed inwards, and it appears that his head may be in contact with it. There's blood, indicating damage, but the extent of which is yet to be determined. His arms are hanging limp, and one appears to be broken and covered in blood. The fracture is visible, one of the forearm bones- _he can't remember the names_ \- sticking clean out. Worse, though, is the rock embedded in the male's lower abdomen. There is a steady quantity of crimson leaking around it, dripping down, out of the other shattered window, and down to the misty abyss below. The only thing holding him up is his safety strap. 

Zim now understands the importance of such a stupid hindrance, when considering the operators of such dangerous machines are just mere mortals. The safety inflation device, however, appears to have failed its purpose. It's been punctured as well as the Dib.

Popped, just like him.

The damage goes further. Really, he shouldn't expect such a weak creature to survive something like this. A head injury of unknown severity on top of a near-complete impaling paired with a severely bleeding arm wound? 

It'd take Zim a full Earth rotation to heal from that, granted that he can somehow manage to safely remove the spike of stone, and that's _with_ his advanced Irken technology. 

This boy has no hope. 

He's not even breathing. 

It's to be expected. 

_He's not even breathing._

Humans are such weak, fragile little things. A mere chemical reaction burnt his father-unit to a crisp. 

And now a rock through the chest is going to take his son. 

**_He's not breathing._ **

A stupid rock is going to take his Rival. 

His Nemesis. 

How long has he even been out here? 

Has it been days?

Hours?

Minutes?

Is he too late?

Can he do something?

Of course, he can. 

He is Zim...


	11. Chapter 11

_"_ Oh, son..." 

Dib blinks, amber eyes wide as he takes in the street around him. It wasn't heavy with traffic, and it was a few hours past dinner time. There weren't many people wandering about. His gaze wanders to a man across the street, guiding a boy no older than eight by the hand. 

"Why are you staring at them like that?" The question arises from his right. He shifts his gaze over to his sister. She looks up at him with an annoyed frown. 

"Sorry. I thought I heard something." Dib mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm probably just tired." He reasons, casting one last hesitant glance at the strangers. 

It had sounded much closer to him than that. 

"Whatever. Stop being weird." Gaz sneers, quickly returning her attention to her game. The little chimes and pings of her game echo across the quiet street. It was strangely quiet, especially for a Saturday night. A part of him would have been worried- suspicious. Now he just feels sort of disappointed that the world hasn't ended yet. 

Had he felt like he had the energy to, he'd really like to punch that stupid bug for slacking off so much when he should clearly be taking advantage of this opportunity. 

But Zim always was an idiot. Maybe that's his punishment: to endure a prolonged life of torture via an incompetent space-roach. 

He stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets- a new addition to his wardrobe. The added fabric made him feel more secure.

It didn't remind him of how terrible of a person he is. 

The rest of the walk home is silent. 

"Not now!" 

He startles. The mug in his hand falls and shatters. A dozen sharp pieces of glass-ceramic lie broken and strewn across the kitchen tile. His hands won't stop trembling, even as he squats down to collect the shards. 

"That better not have been my Vampire Piggies mug or you're going to _pay,_ Dib!" Gaz growls from the livingroom. 

It wasn't. It was just a simple mug that read "Coffee Runs The World". And yet, the brunette is speechless. His heart won't stop racing. 

_What was that?_

It was only Sunday. 

Dib doesn't go to school on Monday. He doesn't feel well, he tells his sister. She allows him to stay home- a small moment of kindness. A rarity, but he appreciates it. 

He spends most of the day lazing around, browsing through channels on the tv and cycling through different movies on demand. He's wasting time, he knows this. He's hiding, like a coward. 

He doesn't eat, but he tries to. He wanders into the kitchen, and into the pantry. 

Nothing looks appetizing. He knows he's looking thin, now. But he tries, because Gaz told him to. He pours a bowl of cereal and manages to swallow a bite. 

The second doesn't stay down. His body rejects the nourishment faster than his will does. He gives up after that- makes a note to take out the trash before Gaz gets home. 

He heads to the bathroom to clean himself and brush his teeth. Maybe he will feel better. 

_Not that he deserves to._

He catches a shadow in his periphery- tall and looming. It's gone when he turns to look. 

"Watch it, kid!" Rough hands shove into his shoulders, pushing him off balance. Dib stumbles a few steps, then turns a half-hearted glare over his shoulder. 

"Sorry, jerk." He grumbles. He doesn't make it two more steps before the same hands are spinning him around. 

"Oh, you got something to say, wise-guy?" His offender snarls. Dib finds himself pushed against a wall. A blade is pressed to his throat. 

Cold ambers stare up, unblinking. His lips curl into a humorless, pained smile. 

"What? Ya' gonna cut my throat open? _Please,_ I fucking _dare you."_ He taunts, darkly. 

His assailant falters. 

_Unfortunate._

"Don't tell me you're scared! I thought you were a thug, don't pussy out, now!" He's starting to sound unhinged. 

The blade is removed. His hands are shaking. 

**_No NO nO no NO NO NO!_ **

"COME ON, YOU'RE A MAN, AREN'T YA'?!" He's manic. 

**Desperate.**

The thug flees, and a sob breaks from the teenager's throat as he sinks to the alley floor. 

_So close._

He pulls his knee's up to his chest, curls in on himself. He feels small and cold, alone in that dark alley. 

He doesn't know how long he spends like that. 

Until a warm, comforting hand is placed upon his shoulder. 

"There, there, son. It'll all be okay." 

Dib looks up with wide eyes. 

He's alone. 

Dib paces in his room. It's the most Gaz has seen him move in weeks. Although frantic and chaotic, he's at least energized now. 

It's not the most favorable kind of improvement, but it's improvement none-the-less. 

She leans against his door frame with her arms crossed. She's been watching him do this for a few minutes now, mumbling frantically to himself the entire time. Normally, she wouldn't bother with concerning herself with whatever nonsense he's up to, but given the situation... 

It's a bit of a drastic change, compared to his behavior as of recently. Anybody would be concerned. 

"What are you doing?" Her question startles him. There is a falter in his step as he stops, and turns to her with wide, crazed eyes. 

"Gaz!" He exclaims. He's jittery, whether from excitement, fear, anxiety, malnourishment, or some combination thereof is yet to be determined. She quirks a brow. 

"What happened?" She questions, cautiously. She hates how unpredictable he can be, sometimes. He shakes his head and walks up to her, grabs her by the shoulders. 

It's not a good sign. 

"I'm going to sound crazy, Gaz!" He says. 

That's _really_ not a good sign. 

"You always sound crazy. Just spit it out." She presses. He sucks in a breath and takes a step back. Amber flick quickly between her two violet. 

"It's about Dad." He informs, after a short but tense moment. 

"What?" He takes a step, and then another. His hands dig into his matted hair as he begins pacing again. 

"I know this is going to sound insane but I promise I'm not making any of this up, Gaz! I've been hearing these whispers for a while now, and until recently I just thought I was hearing things- imagining things. But they kept getting louder, Gaz, and as they did I was able to hear his voice! It was Dad, he was talking to me, probably from the other side! And then I started catching glimpses of these shadows! They were blurry at first, but they started becoming clearer, and I could see that it was definitely him! And I've been able to feel him, too! I was sitting in an alley and he put his hand on me and I felt it! I felt it, Gaz! Do you know what this means?" He turns to her, abruptly, with thick tears streaming down his cheeks. 

She has absolutely _no idea_ how to respond. 

Dib grabs her by the shoulders again and shakes her. 

"Gaz! Dad's a ghost and he's been trying to communicate with me and I-"

"Wait wait wait!" She interrupts him. She pushes him off. 

What started as disbelief quickly becomes anger. 

"You think Dad is one of your dumb paranormal toys, now?!" She accuses, furious. He falters, his brows furrowing. 

"Come on. Not you, too. Not, _now_." He whispers with a glare. 

"Now?! Dib, do you hear yourself! You're talking nonsense!" She shouts back. He grits his teeth. 

"I know! But just listen to me! I know how ghosts work, and I can-" 

"You can _what?!_ Bring him back?!" She challenges. 

"Yes! I just need-"

"What you need is _help,_ Dib! You're not okay!" 

"Would you _stop-"_

"SHUT UP!" She screams, her own tears staining her cheeks. 

Dib's never seen his sister cry before. It melts whatever he'd been feeling before and leaves him cold, 

_again_. 

The two are silent, staring into each other's watery eyes. Their panting breaths are the only sound in the house. 

"Come now, children! It's time for dinner!" 

It sounds like he's downstairs this time. 

"Dad just called us to dinner. You really didn't hear that?" He whispers, afraid to break the quiet. Gaz shakes her head with a quiet sniff. 

"Dib..." She hugs him, suddenly. 

Another rarity. 

This time Dib is speechless. 

"I believe in you, son!" 

He grabs onto those words and internalizes them, clear as day now. His grip is solid on the steering wheel. 

His heart is racing in his chest. 

He's anxious. He's excited- nervous! He doesn't want to mess things up this time! 

The last time he tried to resurrect a ghost he created a zombie instead. But last time, he'd been forced to compromise with the ingredients he had used. 

But he knew what he was doing! He had the formula down- ran through it multiple times to make sure everything was correct! 

He could not mess this up! And he'd bring Dad home and prove to Gaz that he wasn't crazy! He glanced at the figure in his back seat through the rearview. Sharp goggles met his gaze perfectly. 

"Just hold on, Dad. We're almost there!" He says. His father scratches his head. 

"Where are we going, son?" He asks. 

"I need a special raven for the spell, but the particular breed I need only lives on this mountain. They're special because they survive solely off of the young of the other native bird populations, and sometimes even their own! I'm not entirely sure why they evolved to be like this but the spiritual energy they harness is unmatched even when compared to most ancient artifacts! With one of them, the ritual is almost guaranteed to work!" He rambles excitedly. The road narrows. He's halfway through their ascent. 

"That sounds fascinating, son, but I'm busy right now!" His father responds. Dib glances back at him in the mirror again. 

"Hey, is that your super-toast? I always theorized that it'd be possible for a spirit to carry an object of sentimental value with them into the other side. It's nice to know I'm right, for once!" 

"I'm making TOAST!" Dib chuckles, heart warm. 

"Yeah, you always did like your toast, Dad." He reminisces. "Listen, now that you're here. I really wanted to talk to you. It's about the fight we had before the accident." 

"My poor, insane son..." 

"I know, Dad, but listen. I know we have differing opinions but I just want you to know that I-"

"But you fell because you were chasing one." 

"-what? Chasing what?" He glances in the mirror. His father is staring out the window. 

"Are you hurt?" His father asks instead. Dib frowns. 

He's running out of time. His father is dissociating from the living realm. He presses down a little harder on the gas pedal.

"I'm okay, Dad, don't worry. But, I really wanted to tell you that I'm-"

"You don't have to lie to me, son." 

"I know, Dad. I'm not lying when I say that I'm-"

_"But we can't both get what we want, can we."_

A lot happens at once. 

The warm, cozy feelings he'd been basking in all morning are completely and abruptly drowned out by the overwhelming iciness that pools in his gut. Hearing those final words in his father's tone cuts something deep into his heart. It fills his eyes with tears. 

Blurry vision locks onto his rearview, desperate yet terrified to make eye contact with the person he loves most sitting in his back seat. 

Only to find him gone. 

Vanished. 

And Dib panics. Because he's grieved for his father so dearly and he'd finally found an opportunity to fix his mistakes. Only to waste so much time and now he's _gone._

_And what if he's gone for good now?!_

_What if he's too late this time?!_

_What if he can't fix this mistake?!_

_What if_

_What if_

_WHAT IF_

**_WHAT IF WHAT IF WHAT IF WHAT IF_ **

He's screaming before he's even lost control of his speeding vehicle, too desperate to find something he knows isn't there to properly care. 

Unable to do anything but scream and cry and beg and plead to whatever omniscient being is out there to just 

**_give him a chance to say he's sorry!_ **

He careens over the edge, and he's so overwhelmed with manic desperation and renewed grief. 

He doesn't even care about his own mortality. 

He's staring death in the face and he _**doesn't care!** _

All he cares about is the fact that, 

as always, 

Dib fucked up. 

And he couldn't **fix** it. 

Not this time. 

Not anymore. 

Not **ever**. 

He won't get a **second chance** this time. 


	12. Chapter 12

_Mmmph..._

...wha...?

_Hmmibh.._

What..?

_"Dib!"_ Amber eyes snap open, searching about frantically through the darkness, as a sudden pain tears through his chest with a vengeance. He gasps for air with lungs that feel like they're on fire and chokes. 

He can't breathe. 

He can't _breathe!_

_Why can't he breathe! He's going to suffocate! Why aren't his lungs working?! Why does it hurt?! Why does everything hurt?! What's going on?! What's happening?! What's happening?! WHAT'S HAPPENING?! WHAT'S HAPPENING?! **WHAT'S HAPPENING?! WHAT'S HA-**_

"Dib! Calm down!" He flinches at the voice. It's so loud in his ears. "You're going to be okay, just calm down." He knows that voice. He clenches his eyes shut; opens them. The light that suddenly pours in is blinding. It's almost unbearable. He turns his head away, squinting. All he can see is blue and grey. Everything is blurry. A warmth touches his arm, and it burns. He pulls away from that, too. "Hey." Purple swarms his vision. 

_Gaz?_

He reaches out to her. He knows his sister. He knows his sister means he's safe. 

_Safe from what?_

His hand finds warmth, but this time it doesn't burn. It's comforting; soft. He sucks in a breath, and the cold air is a relief against the burning in his lungs. It dulls the ache until it becomes nothing but a faint memory. 

"Finally. Must have been one hell of a nightmare." Gaz sighs. He squints up at where he assumes her face to be. A few blinks and his vision clears up. 

_What happened?_

She's sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his hand. He can't quite see properly since he doesn't have his glasses on, but he can tell she's a little disturbed. 

"Gaz?" He manages to croak out. His throat is dry and sore. She sighs again, giving his hand one final squeeze before standing up. 

"Geez. Get a hold of yourself, Dib. And do it quickly. We're gonna be late for school." She scolds quietly before leaving. He sits up and immediately regrets it as a huge headache comes on. His glasses are on his nightstand. He grabs them and slides them on. 

He's in his bed. It's the same one he's had since the start of high school, when he grew out of his twin size and upgraded to a queen. The sheets are a simple greyish blue. The comforter and pillow sheets are a darker blue, with white UFO patterns on it. They were custom ordered, he remembers. His walls are still the same as always too, littered with an assortment of posters. His bulletin board hangs next to his desk. Almost all of the pictures on it are of Zim, of course. And his desk remains in the corner like usual. Nothing is different or out of place. 

So why does he feel so odd? 

Scratching his head, he stumbles out of bed. His legs ache as if he just ran a marathon. Weird. He doesn't remember what happened last night. 

Weird.

Whenever anything weird happens there's usually only one person to blame, and that's a certain green menace that loves to torment him. Dib grabs his phone, intent on sending the Irken a vague threat about being onto whatever weird shit he's trying to pull this time. Only, he pauses. 

His phone says Monday. It's Monday. 

That means yesterday was Sunday, but he could swear he was at school yesterday. 

_Something is definitely going on._

He can't explain any of it, or why he's certain of it, but something in his gut is telling him that something isn't right. And Dib learned long ago to trust his gut. 

**Monday, 7:46 am.**

"Shit!" He yelps, when the time finally catches up to him. Gaz wasn't joking when she said they were going to be late. He stumbles over to his dresser and changes his clothes in a hurry. New jeans, a new shirt. It's a shame he doesn't have time to shower, as his hair feels just a little too greasy for his liking, but it'll have to do for today. Two minutes of freshening up later, and he's pacing back into his room to gather the rest of his things. He ties his boots first, and instinctively reaches into his closet for his coat. 

His hands falter. His heart skips a beat. He feels... scared? 

_What the hell is going on?_

He steels himself and yanks his coat over his shoulders, huffing. It makes no sense for him to be afraid of his coat. His coat is his favorite! It makes him look cool! Determined, he takes the steps two at a time. 

Zim is up to something and he knows it. Whatever it is, he's going to stop it. Because that's what he does. His name is Dib Membrane, and he might be the sole defender of Earth, but he's a damn good one and he won't let anything stand in his way. Not even a stupid nightmare he can't even remember anymore. 

Really? A nightmare? Zim's been on Earth for six years now, he can't be that burnt out on good ideas already! Geez. It's almost like he's lost his touch. 

_What a shame._

"Have a wonderful day at school, son!" His father speaks from the kitchen. He freezes in the doorway, slowly turning to regard the man. He sits casually at the dinner table, in his usual spot, with a mug of coffee in his hand. Dib blinks. 

That's right. He had another fight with him last night. 

Dark brows knit together as a cold feeling seeps into his chest. 

He remembers now. 

It's Monday. 


	13. Chapter 13

_Today feels weird._ Dib thinks, as he grabs his bag of lunch from his locker. All day, he had been plagued with a constant feeling of dejá vu. It’s like those dreams he has with the future vision are somehow becoming more potent? _  
_

Maybe he’s developing some kind of super power? It would be pretty cool to have psychic vision.

Dib shakes his head. There’s a logical cause and he knows it, he just has to figure out what, and how. With his lunch in hand, he makes his way to the aliens claimed lunch table.

To his confusion, he finds the table empty.

Weird, because he could have sworn he saw the Irken today. He distinctly remembers talking to him during... lunch? But lunch was happening now, so that made no sense to him. 

Maybe that was a different day? No, that doesn’t make much sense either. Dib isn’t the kind of guy who easily gets his days confused. He remembers going grocery shopping with Gaz on Saturday, and then the chase with Zim Sunday- yesterday night. And the fight with his father. And then today. 

And yet, he remembers...

nothing?

What was he even doing at Zim’s table? He isn’t even here today.

”You’re acting strange again.” Gaz’s voice breaks his thoughts. He blinks, turning to his sister with a confused frown.

”What do you mean? I was just...” He pauses, his confusion only growing. “I mean, I was... looking for a spot?” He tries. Gaz gives him a weird look, only furthering his confusion.

”You’ve been standing here, staring at Zim’s spot for the past fifteen minutes.” She blanches.

”What?” She sighs.

”I’m starting to think that maybe you have finally gone insane like everybody keeps saying. Just sit down and stop acting like a moron so people will stop asking me if you’re okay.” She growls her warning, before finally walking off, leaving him in a stupor. He takes a slow seat at the table, staring into space as his mind wanders.

”Why wouldn’t I be okay?” He ponders aloud.

_Huh._

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, most of it too boring to make much note of anyways with Zim gone. Before he knows it, the final bell rings, and he finds himself walking home.

And he can’t for the _life of him_ figure out what’s changed. The sky is still blue. The grass is still green. The air is nice, if just a tad bit chilly. It’s spring time and everything seems normal.

Is it him? He did wake up from a nightmare this morning. But those aren’t all that uncommon. Rare, but not uncommon for him. Usually he only has them after a rather serious injury, of which Zim is almost always the cause of. However, those dreams are always vivid- full of glowing crimson eyes and the reflective silver of his Pak legs.

Dib shivers. It makes him uncomfortable to think about. And he doesn’t like that he can’t remember the cause of this morning’s nightmare.

So many questions. Pondering won’t get him anywhere without a solid lead. What he needs to do is act. Get the answers he needs. Figure out what the hell is going on. And he knows exactly where to start.

He’s going to march right up to that stupid house of his and demand to know _why_ -

Dib blinks, pausing in his steps.

”Why do you have a pink llama?” He blurts out. There he stands in all his ugly green glory, upon his artificial lawn, with a pink llama beside him. That little roach is so strange sometimes.

”Do you like him? His name is Carl!” Zim boasts, pride seeping through every inch of his small being. Dib recollects himself, crossing his arms.

”No, actually. I think it’s stupid.” He dares. Zim frowns, and it’s as if all of his gusto drains out of him like a popped tire. His shoulders sag under some invisible weight. Those uncanny lenses of his peer up at him under half squinted eyes. Violet irises flicker between gold. Dib suddenly feels uneasy. “Hey, uh,” He tries, but he doesn’t know what to say.

Zim tilts his head, staring at him expectantly.

_Something feels off with him._

”Where were you today? It’s not like you to miss a Monday. I thought they were your favorite?” Dib tries instead, uncertain.

Instantly, the Irkens face twists into a proud grin. 

_Huh..._


	14. Chapter 14

"Where were you today? It's not like you to miss a Monday. I thought they were your favorite?" The human asks. His uncertainty is written all over his stupid greasy face. 

Zim smirks- an evil grin twisted in satisfaction. For a moment, he had been worried, anxious. Humans were notoriously dense, but he knew Dib's intelligence was far superior to that of the rest of his race. What he did was risky, but the success of his plan relied entirely on the raven-haired boy's amnesia. 

However, it seems his plan worked. He has succeeded. Because he is Zim, and he is so _amazing!_

The Irken grins up at his rival, showing off his zipper-like teeth. "While you are correct in that your _miserable_ Mondays are quite entertaining to behold, they are not, however, my favorite day. Thus, I have no qualms with missing one." He corrects arrogantly. "And to answer your question: that is a stupid question. Even for you!" He snarks, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest. Dib balks. 

"How? I've been trying to find you all day!" Dib fires. Zim sticks his tongue out at him with a glare, and then gestures rather aggressively to the robot standing off to the side. 

"Your Godly deity would be disappointed, Dib-monkey! Have you the brain worms? Obviously, I have been at my base all day, working on my latest evil-genius _creation!"_ He hisses. 

"Okay, I'll bite. You made a pink robotic llama; why?" Dib sighs, and finally _properly_ regards it. 

_Finally!_

Zim nods in approval and removes a device from his pak.

"Well you see, filthy human, Carl is-"

"You named it Carl?" Dib interrupts. He glares, annoyed. 

"Yes." Dib uncrosses his arms and tucks his hands into the pockets of his coat, analyzing the robot as it stares, blankly, out into the street. Beady pink lenses zero in on a boy walking his dog. 

"Why? You always come up with the weirdest names for your robotic henchmen." Dib criticizes. Zim scowls, further irritated.

"How can you call my names _weird_ when they're common Earthling names! And I'll have you know it's actually an acronym! So HAH!!" He spits. Dib raises a brow. 

"Really? What does it mean, then?" He challenges. 

Zim falters.

"Uh..." He stalls, wracking his pak for ideas. "C....ool Artificial Robotic Llama! Eat dirt, pathetic worm!" He shouts, and finally presses that tantalizing red button on his remote. With an ecstatic smile, he watches as the beast twists its gaze to lock onto the Dib. The panels on its shoulders and hips open, allowing the limbs to extend into something much more mobile and menacing. Dib tenses, those sharp golden eyes pricking in anticipation. 

Immediately, Zim can see the way they flicker, calculating any possible weaknesses. It's almost mesmerizing, watching how the gears in his head begin to turn- kicking into overdrive as the adrenaline takes over. 

And to think he might not have gotten the chance to witness it another time. 

_How unfortunate that would have been._

"Carl will be your _demise_ , human!" He growls. An act. (A lie.)

That enticing gaze finds him.

He's _listening._

"For you see, _Dib,_ Carl was created specifically to torment you." He growls, low and threatening. 

"Torment me how?" Dib questions, taking a cautious step back. The robot closes the distance. Artificial pink lenses contact, glowing red. Even in the afternoon sun, it was a threatening sight. 

"Wouldn't you like to know!" Zim cackles maliciously. Suddenly, the unusual beast charges at him. Dib's flight response kicks in immediately, and before he knows it he's racing down the street with the deranged robotic llama hot on his tail. 

"DIB!" The robot screeches, loud and grating on his eardrums. He cringes. 

A turn. 

"DIIIIIIB!" It continues. Another turn. He leaps over a fence. Runs haphazardly across the street, dodging cars. He even tries to cut through the park. 

Nothing works. He can't shake it. He's out of breath and his legs burn. He has no choice. Dib has to fight. 

He leads it to a dead-end road under construction- not being used. Skidding to a stop, he faces the angry machine.

Dib's breath comes out rough as it charges. 

Lavender eyes watch as the human dodges, leaping skillfully out of the way. Grey clouds swarm the sky. 

Look at him go. 

Alive and healthy just as he should be. 

Long legs carry him with powerful strides as he makes a run for shelter. One of the llama's legs trip over a piece of broken concrete. It stumbles, and Dib takes the opportunity to shoot it with his stolen gun. 

Annoying, but resourceful. Zim can't really fault him for that. 

His shot connects, leaving the robot's head a melted mess of wire and metal. It grumbles out one last whine, powering down. A simple conclusion, just as he expected it would be. 

The first raindrop falls as Zim emerges from his hiding spot. 

"That was kind of pathetic, even for you," Dib says, as Zim quietly approaches him from behind. The Irken nods, although he cannot see it. 

"Eh. I lost my inspiration half-way through. Consider yourself lucky, Earth-worm." He says, voice tame. Dib blinks at him, taken aback. 

"That's not like you. Did something happen?" He asks. Zim looks up at him, expression guarded. Dib was looking at him with... a strange mix of curiosity and... concern? 

More droplets of water begin to fall. Zim crosses his arms. There is a weird sensation in his chest cavity. 

"I'm not stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trap." He sneers up at him. Dib sighs, long and exasperated. He shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs away. 

"Whatever, Zim. I'm going home." He grumbles over his shoulder. The Irken watches as his nemesis leaves. Water begins to soak into their clothes. They both share one collective thought:

_Why doesn't that feel as good as it used to?_


End file.
